


it's what you feel (but can't articulate out loud)

by jxxhyxns



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: ???? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - College/University, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, everyone is gay except for Ong Seongwu and Woojin is just blind, it's really not that angsty i promise i'm just tagging to be safe, why is woojin running all the freaking time like ?? we get it !! ur a student athlete !! s t o p, woojin is a mess but at least he's apologetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 08:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13970838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxxhyxns/pseuds/jxxhyxns
Summary: The line between romantic and platonic has always been blurry for Woojin and he's starting to learn that it, among other things, might not be as straight as he'd initially thought.Or; Woojin has a crush on Jihoon but he is the last one to find out.





	it's what you feel (but can't articulate out loud)

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [TMYOUTHFW](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TMYOUTHFW) collection. 



> Many thanks to [LillithEvans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillithEvans) for helping me muddle this out back when it started out life as a 5+1 _(5 times Woojin runs away from his problems and the 1 time he stops)_. It's come a long way since then and the fact this made it past that first 2k is all thanks to you~
> 
> *title taken from Sleepsong by Bastille  
> *as yet un-beta'd so please bear with any typos etc. xo

It’s not the first time that Woojin has thought about joining the secret service. Really, hasn't everyone? It’s not even the second time, or the third. But, as he nearly trips over his poorly tied shoelaces in his haste to leave, it is the first time he’s realised that they probably wouldn't want him. Nevertheless the training would have come in handy, if not for sneaking out to the convenience store with Daehwi back in middle school, then certainly right now as he tries to make a deft and inconspicuous escape from the club rooms by the soccer field without drawing the attention of―

 

"Woojin!" The shout is as unexpectedly delighted as it is loud when coming from someone as small and presumably resentful of him as Yoojung. "I thought I’d missed you!" she adds, jogging up to him and- alright, okay - this is happening, then.

 

Except, Woojin would really rather it didn't. Not now, not until he’s able to explain himself, which - based on his current estimates and previous history - could turn out to be never.

 

If he hadn't been too busy trying to avoid acquainting his face with the dusty pavement, Woojin would have seen her coming and succeeded in avoiding bumping into this particular acquaintance. Or he would have frozen and looked even more like a deer in the headlights than he does now. (Unfortunately not the best of instincts for a secret agent to have.)

 

Either Yoojung doesn't notice Woojin’s trepidation or she chooses to ignore it in favour of pursuing her intended topic of interrogation.

 

Conversation.

 

Same difference.

 

"Oh, hey Yoojung! Haven’t seen you around lately," he tries for nonchalance seasoned with feigned ignorance of the fact that the sole reason they haven't seen each other is because of Woojin himself. Or more accurately, he’d seen her, and then quickly turned around and walked the other way.

 

Which, now that he thinks about it as he stares down at the petit cheerleader, actually sounds rather mean and ordinarily the guilt would make his stomach roll if it wasn't already occupied by the inexplicable simmering of anxiety that bubbled up every time he imagined bumping into her on the way to class, or being tugged possessively over by the arm to be introduced to her friends ― or even whenever he had to scroll past their abandoned kakaotalk conversation. As nice, and funny, and pretty, and everything as Yoojung is, that familiar inexplicable anxiety has been enough to bait Woojin into admittedly disproportionate measures of avoidance.

 

Yoojung, bless her soul, lets Woojin’s comment pass without pointing out the social faux-pas he has so consistently and blatantly perpetrated against her this past week. Now that he looks at her, she doesn't seem particularly agitated; simply earnest as she asks, "Do you have time right now? We should talk."

 

_We should talk._

 

He’s heard that one before but no matter how many times he’s had to have this talk with a girl, he’s never quite figured out what he’s supposed to say. Besides ‘sorry’, of course.

 

Suffice to say that Woojin has somewhat of a reputation around campus. He’s handsome enough, athletic enough, and has been seen on enough dates with enough different girls to garner the kind of reputation that gets one talked about. Gossiped about, to be exact. That’s all it’s ever been, a couple of bland dates, although on the surface it appears to fit with just what people expect of the star forward of the university soccer team; and really, the surface is all some people care about.

 

"I actually have a lecture in-" he drops his gaze to his watch and winces, "-negative two minutes. I’m sorry I’m going to have to run," he answers, as if he hadn't already tried to make a run for it but found himself caught in the act.

 

To his credit, his tone is one of genuine regret. Genuine regret that he wasn't able to make the journey from the field to the arts block without incident. Yoojung is, by all accounts, lovely but a good day for Woojin is one that doesn't involve awkward social encounters much less the necessity of turning someone down. One of those things has, unfortunately, already made itself apparent but it’s still within Woojin’s power to refrain from ticking the second box.

 

"Oh! Okay, I don’t want to make you late!" she pauses before correcting herself, "Later."

 

Woojin nods and is already backing away, "I’ll call you!"

 

When Yoojung responds, she’s a little too subdued and he’s a little too far away to hear clearly but it sounds a lot like; "That’s what you said last time."

 

The professor is still fiddling with the projector in the vain hope of triggering her memory on just how she had gotten it to work this time last week, and every week of semester before that, when a tardy Woojin slips in the door largely undetected, sliding into the nearest free seat at the back of the lecture hall. No one’s going to call him out for being ten minutes late ー no one cares, besides, at least he’d bothered to actually attend the lecture ー but it’s always a relief not to have to interrupt anyone with his entrance.

 

Every lecture theatre in the nation has a perpetually squeaky door and Woojin would be lying if he said he’s never turned up late and stood in front of the door, debating whether it was worth opening it and attracting the attention of a hundred or so pairs of eyes - if only for a few seconds, or if he should just skip and go home.

 

Like he said, at least he’s actually bothered coming to class today.

 

Although, that hasn't been much of an issue this semester - for this class at least. Even if ATS2153 Medieval European History has less sword fighting than he’d anticipated when choosing the elective, there’s still a reason he keeps coming back.

 

As Daehwi would say, _it’s a boy_ , and Woojin knows what that sounds like but he’ll protest the implication until his last breath.

 

_("Not everyone is boy-crazy like you, Dae. I don’t even like boys, you’re just superimposing yourself onto me because you’re thirsty and the only well you have to drink from at the moment is full of ‘basic Cali frat boys’."_

_As always Daehwi will pout and complain across the shitty Skype call connection, "You’re no fun, hyung!")_

 

So yes, there is a guy in this lecture that makes it worthwhile attending and Woojin’s masculinity isn't so fragile as to prevent him from admitting he kind of wants to get to know him. He could do with more friends outside the soccer team and there's something interesting about this one particular classmate that Woojin can't quite put his finger on.

 

Maybe he’d be closer to understanding exactly what that something is if he’d ever actually spoken to him. The boy too often sits at the front of the lecture theatre, presumably because he forgets the glasses Woojin has seen him wear on occasion, and it’s far too late in the semester, nay, his academic career, for Woojin to make such a drastic habitual change and begin sitting there instead of his usual spot up the back.

 

He does know his name, though; Jihoon.

 

One time Jihoon had held the door open for him on the singular occasion that Woojin had arrived early ー not just on time, but early ー and they entered the hall at the same time. The gesture was one of simple politeness on Jihoon’s part but Woojin had felt a little queasy at being the recipient of a smile from him all the same. Then one of Jihoon’s friends had called out his name and waved him over and Woojin was left to stand blocking the doorway, a little starstruck.

 

Since then he’s just admired him from afar. Well, not admired. Just, like, noticed? Because Jihoon is a lot of things, including cool, calm and collected (seriously, anyone who does the pre-reading without fail and remembers to bring a pen let alone a whole set of colour coordinated highlighters is on a whole other level) and Woojin desperately wishes he was even a small measure of those things himself. Even after nearly two years of tertiary ‘study' he doesn't feel like he has things together and he’s not sure he ever will. Not if he continues on this path and graduates with a business degree he doesn’t know the first thing to do with, even if his father had convinced him it was a better option than pursuing his other interests. He’s not sure how he could explain to his father why he is taking a history elective when he’s actually a business major, but he's keeping his grades high enough that his parents aren't concerned with seeing his academic transcript so what they don't know, won't hurt them.

 

(Woojin knows from experience that what his parents don't know only ends up hurting him. Nights staggering home late from the local dance studio soon turned into mornings limping to school. Woojin has come to learn that some secrets aren't worth keeping, no matter how passionate you are but these days he is living independently, 435 km from Busan, and so he'll allow himself just this one class to fill the void. At least it's academic. Far easier to explain away than a dance minor.)

 

It’s not that making friends has ever been hard for Woojin; quite the opposite, actually. As socially avoidant as he’s demonstrated himself to be around Yoojung and girls in general, that’s just down to never having much of what Ong Seongwu, their team captain, calls ‘a way with the ladies’. The closest Woojin seems to get is running a _way_ from ‘the ladies’.

 

To put it frankly, Woojin’s never been in want of friends, never had the experience of seeing someone and yearning to know them. Being reasonably talented at sports (enough to earn a scholarship, at least) and somewhat good-looking according to his mother and his high school fan club, Woojin has always been the one who is approached. He is the one who accepts friendship by taking one of the many hands already outstretched in his direction. Nor is it that Woojin is apathetic or disinterested in the friendships he forms. It’s just that he’s never had to put in too much effort, or any at all, when it comes to initiating contact.

 

Except with Jihoon.

 

Woojin is aware that he doesn't know him well enough to judge how well they’d get along as friends but he wants to fix that; he just doesn't know how.

 

His phone vibrates where it's propped up against the screen of his laptop and Woojin ignores the incoming message from Yoojung in favour of peering around to see if he can spot Jihoon sitting at the front, wondering if he's wearing that awful fluorescent sweater again that had been so easy to find last week. Funnily enough, that hadn't been one of the days that Jihoon had had trouble finding his glasses.

 

Woojin’s thoughts are so quickly occupied by Jihoon that he doesn't even have time to consider that there's little point actually coming to class, let alone applauding himself for it, if he’s not going to pay the slightest attention to anything but the, admittedly cute, boy in the second row.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is what sleep deprivation does to a person. Sleep deprivation and an overwhelming need for caffeine. It drives a person to extremes; you lose all common sense and all track of time. You find yourself doing things that you ordinarily wouldn't; things that a more alert version of yourself wouldn’t dream of doing in a million years.

 

Like voluntarily going within a mile of the student centre during student union elections week.

 

Woojin doesn't know what he was thinking. Obviously he wasn't; thinking, that is. The place is swarming with student campaigners each decked out in one of a rainbow of t-shirts belonging to the respective parties, armed with flyers and lacking in inhibition. With a shudder, he remembers Sungwoon telling him how last year one of them followed him all the way to the Engineering Building and didn’t stop until Sungwoon leant in close and whispered, "If you don't leave me alone, I’m going to hurt you and leave your body to rot in the flower beds under the statue of King Sejong." Apparently not a single campaigner has approached him since.

 

Before Woojin can even whip out his phone to make a defensive call to whoever is at the top of his contacts list, there is someone upon him and even though Woojin really doesn't have the time or the interest, he can't find it in him to tell them to take a hike.

 

He knows that politics, even student politics, is important so he feels a little bad for tuning out when this is something that the campaigner is passionate about, but all Woojin wanted was a strong, sadly overpriced coffee and now he is effectively trapped for who knows how long, forcing polite smiles and being compelled to contemplate the exponential growth of his student debt.

 

Sure, eventually this one guy will finish his speech, maybe even ask a couple of questions to which Woojin will grunt noncommittally, but that will not be the end. Oh no, that will only be the beginning ー because Woojin can already see people representing all the other student parties lining up to get a word in. If he’s lucky one of them will interrupt to rebut a point and the two will become so swept up in their own debate that Woojin will be able to slip away.

 

He doesn't have high hopes but today must be his lucky day because someone appears to his left and does interrupt. Someone with honey brown hair, wearing a soft, fuzzy pink sweater instead of a gaudy campaign t-shirt. Someone Woojin thinks he must have dreamt up in his time of need.

 

"You know what?" Jihoon asks the campaigner, almost conspiratorial with a sympathetic smile plastered to his face. "We would love to vote for you, but we actually like enacting real change. Have a nice day." And with that, smile not faltering in the slightest, Jihoon grasps Woojin’s wrist and pulls him away, out of the danger zone.

 

He stares at the back of Jihoon’s head as the other boy leads him to freedom, Woojin is so overwhelmed with gratitude towards his saviour that he could kiss him.

 

On the cheek-- or the hand-- or something.

 

Out of gratitude-- platonically-- between bros.

 

Like a bro kiss-- a Briss™.

 

Some distant part of Woojin knows that Daehwi would berate him for voicing such a thought but at this point Woojin’s tired brain is on the brink of short-circuiting in an attempt to understand what is happening. When Jihoon looks back at him, it must show on his face because he drops his wrist and says, "Park Woojin, are you okay?"

 

Jihoon knows his name.

 

Jihoon knows who he is.

 

For a moment, the weight of Jihoon’s stare makes Woojin forget that he even plays soccer, let alone well enough to be of note to the student body. Even at a university as big as this, people tend to pay attention to the sports teams...or is it the gossip? Either way it should have occurred to Woojin before now that Jihoon might have heard of him.

 

What does occur to him, though, is that this is the first time they have looked at each other for longer than a few seconds, let alone long enough to sustain eye contact, and for some reason the thought sends him off kilter. Somehow Woojin manages to string a sentence together.

 

"Yeah, sorry, just…out of it. I’ve been in need of coffee since I woke up and that love affair was sadly cockblocked a quarter of an hour ago by the spirit of democracy."

 

Jihoon blinks at him. "You were standing there for 15 minutes before I got to you? That’s…" _Sad,_ supplies Woojin silently. "…wow. Why didn't you just tell him to go away?"

 

"Because…" Woojin trails off in search of an answer that doesn't highlight a deficiency in his social skills, specifically his ability to stand up for himself. (He’s an adult for goodness sake.) "I don't know," he admits with a shrug. "Somehow it didn't seem like an option when they were bearing down on me. I didn’t think it was a big deal."

 

"It wasn't a big deal? I apologise if you’d rather I hadn't interfered…" Jihoon teases and the spike of terror must show in his eyes because Jihoon laughs.

 

It's rather a lovely laugh and Woojin thinks he must have spent too long around Jaehwan, the club manger, for him to be fixating on a guy's laugh and calling it lovely. Any laugh would sound lovely in comparison to Jaehwan's.

 

"Why did you interfere?" Woojin recycles Jihoon’s words before realising it comes off as a rebuke. "Not that I’m not, like, eternally grateful!-- but I’m curious. It’s usually every man for himself out there."

 

Jihoon chews on his lip as if debating how best to answer before breaking into a wry smile. "To be honest, you looked like you needed help. Like you might’ve still been stuck there a week from now." Perish the thought. "Now I know you just needed coffee."

 

Sure, let’s go with that.

 

Woojin runs a hand through his hair. "Well, there goes that plan," he sighs. "I don't have class for another four hours but if I go back to my dorm I will 100% nap straight through my Business Law lecture, but without coffee I may end up doing the same regardless of where I am."

 

"I know a quiet place that does good coffee without trying to coerce you into considering the ‘socialist alternative’. It’s a little off campus but if you have the time…" Jihoon trails off.

 

Is this what it sounds like? Jihoon wants to get coffee with him? Jihoon wants to spend time with him?

 

Woojin’s shocked silence must translate as hesitance to Jihoon because the other boy’s lips curl in amusement. "You can say no if you want to. You can say no, can’t you?"

 

"I- no, yes. Sounds good."

 

"Cool," Jihoon answers with a little grin before adding, "Sorry for not introducing myself sooner ー I’m Jihoon, by the way. Park Jihoon."

 

 _I know,_ Woojin thinks but he swallows the words in favour of his own introduction.  "I’m Park Woojin. I think I’ve seen you around…"

 

"You’re taking that Euro history unit, right?"

 

"Yeah! Is that how you knew who I was?"

 

"Yeah," the agreement is drawn out, as if there's something he’s not saying. Jihoon must decide it’s not worth omitting because he adds, "I’m also- well, I know Kang Mina."

 

"Fuck."

 

“Pretty much.”

 

There’s something wolfish about Jihoon’s grin and it’s an intriguing, if unexpected, look on the boy. It makes Woojin’s stomach flip and the curiosity gnawing inside of him only grows at the thought that there is more to Jihoon than meets the eye. It’s seemingly in contrast to his innocent appearance, yet in reality, the glint of danger that glows in the depths of his pupils, in the shadow of his cheekbones and the lines of his throat makes Jihoon’s overall image more tangible. As if he’s someone human that Woojin might actually be able to get to know - like filling in the first few lines of a sudoku puzzle, acknowledging that Jihoon is just as complex a person as everyone else is a surface level achievement but it makes it easier to piece together the whole picture as time goes on.

 

“Don’t worry,” Jihoon reassures. “I’m not going to give you a hard time over it. Sometimes things just don’t work out.”

 

The glint hasn’t disappeared entirely but Woojin nods. "How do you…?" he trails off, unsure if he’s allowed to ask.

 

"How do I know Mina?" Jihoon fills in the gaps. "I’m her brother’s …friend." He says the word friend like it’s the subject of a particularly hilarious inside joke between he, himself and possibly Kang Daniel.

 

He itches to ask how she is, what she's doing, but that at least is something he's sure he doesn't have a right to know.

 

Nearly five weeks on from pining after Jihoon’s friendship and wanting to get to know him, every reminder that Jihoon is still practically a stranger to Woojin frustrates him just as much as it draws his interest. It frustrates him because it stokes his impatience. His own eagerness to become close to Jihoon is not something Woojin entirely understands but he figures there's no harm in proactively forming friendships rather than simply doing so through convenience or whenever the need arises.

 

Yet, sitting across from Jihoon in this hole in the wall café masquerading as a bookshop, he doesn't know how to act on his desires. Jihoon is so close Woojin could extend his hand and touch him but the lack of familiarity, the emotional distance, is still there, made greater by the fact that Woojin must, at all costs, refrain from disclosing just how much he’s paid attention to Jihoon before today.

 

Nonetheless, it’s a gap that Woojin wants to close and he hopes that by inviting him here, Jihoon might be willing to do the same.

 

There is silence at their little table as they sip on their drinks, Jihoon’s eyes roving over the shelves packed with hardbacks that have stood the test of time, paperbacks that have seen better days and even the occasional magazine capturing a slice of life in Seoul anywhere from last week to decades ago. Their corner of the café, tucked between the shelves, is cosy but well lit by the exposed light bulb dangling from the ceiling above them and Woojin can't resist studying the face before him, bathed in the warm artificial light.

 

Jihoon allows the straw of his iced chocolate to slip from between his lips, tongue darting out to catch the remnants of chocolate clinging to the corner of his mouth. "Can I be frank?" he asks, now looking directly at Woojin, seemingly uncaring that he’s caught the other boy staring.

 

 _He can be anyone he wants,_ thinks Woojin, _Frank included._

 

"Shoot."

 

"Aren’t you a bit of a pushover for someone who plays competitive sport?" Jihoon asks lightly like he’s inquiring about the weather or where Woojin had bought his shoes.

 

"Excuse me?" Woojin isn't offended. At least he doesn't think he is. Just surprised.

 

"Are you going to disagree?"

 

"We’ve known each other for a whole thirty minutes. What makes you think I’m a pushover?"

 

"Well," drawls Jihoon, dragging his straw through the whipped cream at the top of his glass. "I may have known you for only thirty minutes but in those thirty minutes, you have: allowed a rabid collegiate politician-wannabe to talk your ear off without protest, permitted a stranger to take you by the hand and drag you away from said predicament…"

 

 _It was the wrist,_ Woojin mentally corrects. He’s not sure why the distinction is important.

 

"…then you go along with the stranger to a café, where you proceed to listen to them remark upon your character flaws without so much as a raised eyebrow. Also, you’re drinking hot chocolate."

 

"What’s wrong with me drinking hot chocolate?"

 

"When we met you were experiencing severe caffeine deficiency. We’re at an establishment with a barista who’s qualified to be such by skill, not just by his aesthetic. Plus, I distinctly heard you order a long black." When Jihoon finishes speaking, he lifts some of the whipped cream from the top of his drink with his straw and pops it into his mouth.

 

"Okay," Woojin admits. "They got my order wrong, but I honestly don't mind. It’s fine, the sugar is still enough of a pick me up."

 

"It’s hardly busy in here, I’m sure they wouldn’t have minded remaking it since it was their mistake.”

 

Woojin just shrugs. “So maybe I don’t like kicking up a fuss. Is that so wrong?”

 

“Not saying it’s wrong, just saying it’s curious. If you accidentally stepped on an opponent's foot during a match, and they demanded control of the ball in remittance, would you give it to them?”

 

The question isn’t quite as rhetorical as Woojin would like. “Of course not! That would be letting the team down.”

 

“What about you? What about things that let you down?”

 

Woojin just shrugs and finishes the rest of his hot chocolate, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “It seems like you think my being a ‘pushover’ is synonymous with being selfless.”

 

“Is that not the case?”

 

“It’s the opposite, actually,” Woojin corrects, rather unimpassioned on the subject. “When I avoid confrontation....if it helps others that’s nice, but it’s mostly because it suits me.”

 

“Does it always?”

 

“Always what?”

 

“Suit you.”

 

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

 

“Sometimes things don’t go your way when you don’t speak up. Sometimes you end up dating the wrong girl for six months and leading her on just because she was nice to you in high school.”

 

“I thought you said you weren’t going to give me a hard time about that?” Woojin’s smile is just a little sardonic but he still feels his heart sinking.

 

"Six months is a long time."

 

He knew it was too good to be true.

 

Honestly, what were the odds that someone like Jihoon would want to be friends with Woojin? In Jihoon’s eyes, he’s probably one of those assholes who thinks that just because he can kick a ball around on the field that he’s entitled to play around _off the field_ in the same way that was tolerated by the cult of personality that was three years of high school.

 

Woojin knows he’s not the sweetest person on the block (that would be Daehwi) but he’s not as callous as the rumours would make him out to be. He hadn’t wanted things with Mina to end in the way that they did, and Jihoon’s words, pressing insistently on the bruising that still remains in the aftermath, hurts more than Woojin would like to admit. He can barely grasp what it is that went wrong and for Jihoon to act as if he knows - well, it’s enough to make Woojin’s blood boil a little. For the first time in a long time, he has to bite back the urge to argue. He doesn't need to prove Jihoon wrong, this - he now realises - is probably the first and last proper conversation they will ever have, but God does he want to. He wants to prove him wrong.

 

He doesn't want Jihoon to think so terribly of him, but it would make his life so much easier if he didn't care about that fact. Despite not getting his coffee in the end, Woojin leaves the cafe with a bitter taste in his mouth, barely heeding the offer Jihoon calls after him.

 

_“If you decide you want to change things, come find me.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"And you still want to be his friend?" Daehwi clarifies, just in case the video call had distorted Woojin’s voice and maybe also his common sense.

 

"I guess so…" Woojin shifts awkwardly where he’s sitting cross-legged on his bed in front of his laptop.

 

"I can't understand why, he sounds like an asshole."

 

"Then we’d match well."

 

Daehwi sighs, longsuffering despite his young age. "Woojin, we’ve been over this you’re not a bad person, you have one of the warmest hearts of anyone I know."

 

"Try telling Jihoon that."

 

"Maybe you should."

 

"Maybe I could if I wasn't certain he never wants to talk to me again." Woojin allows himself to fall backwards until he’s lying down, staring listlessly up at the ceiling.

 

"Oh, Woojin," sighs Daehwi, no longer able to be seen by Woojin but certainly able to be heard. "You really like him, don't you? I-," this is where the younger boy stops as if there are words pressing at the seam of his mouth, clamouring to be let out, but he knows that they're best kept unvoiced. Woojin wonders what Daehwi could have to say that he thinks Woojin wouldn't want to hear. "If I’m being honest, I don't understand why you’re as attached to this Jihoon guy as you are but I’m sorry that things have turned sour from the beginning."

 

Something tells Woojin that, blunt though they may seem, those words aren't the ones Daehwi had been struggling with. Woojin curls up on his bed sulkily, swivelling til he can see his laptop screen again before he attempts to explain himself.

 

“I just- I don’t know. Sometimes there’s just people like that? You see them and you, you want to know them - you want them in your life. You’ve met people like that, right?”

 

“I have,” replies Daehwi quietly. “His name was Bae Jinyoung.”

 

Woojin sits up. “Hwi, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

 

“It’s fine, didn’t I tell you I was fine?” Daehwi waves off the concern and lifts his mug of tea to his lips.

 

If Woojin hadn’t known him since elementary school, maybe he’d be convinced. But the fact is, he has and he knows Daehwi better than he knows himself. He knows Daehwi is still having a hard time of it even nearly a year later and suddenly the old urge to break something of Jinyoung’s - his car, his face, anything - returns, rising up from the depths of the ocean like some kind of archaic sea monster bent on destruction.

 

Woojin has always been better at communicating through action, through competition, through aggression. That’s why he makes for such a good player on the field, and it’s the only kind of confrontation he can handle. But Daehwi had begged him not to do anything back then, and now - Woojin’s not about to go behind his best friend’s back to seek revenge for an old injury, no matter how much it still continues to pain him. Woojin’s not in high school anymore.

 

“Besides, it’s not the same, is it? This thing about Jihoon, it’s different to…” he trails off, aware that just because Daehwi was able to say his name, it doesn’t necessarily make it any easier to hear it.

 

There’s silence from the other end of the line and Woojin hopes he hasn’t offended Daehwi on top of rubbing salt in a gradually healing wound. It’s just a fact, really, that he and Daehwi are different in this way but maybe he shouldn’t be so insistent about it.

 

Daehwi has always been the most supportive friend he could have asked for. Ever since a much younger Woojin had moved to Seoul from Busan and found himself neighbours with the closest thing to sunshine personified on Earth, he and Daehwi have been a duo that nothing; not time, nor their slight age difference, nor even the Pacific Ocean could separate.

 

It’s been a hard year, without Daehwi, and while the geographical distance between them since he’d moved to America for college hasn't diminished their best friend status, things - unsurprisingly - aren't the same as they used to be. Late night Skype calls aren't quite the same as the sleepovers they used to have and there are things called timezones and coursework that prevent their schedules from syncing up. He misses Daehwi constantly, like the phantom ache of an amputated limb, and even though the younger misses him too ー Daehwi has always had the skills of a social butterfly and Woojin has always had Daehwi.

 

So it’s understandable that there's somewhat of a gap in his life now that he’s unconsciously looking to fill; not to replace Daehwi, of course, but you can't blame Woojin for yearning for another close friend to spend his days with. For some reason that yearning has attached itself to Jihoon.

 

That’s all it is, though. Woojin is, dare he say, just a little lonely in spite of all the people orbiting around him, wanting to get a piece of Woojin, the soccer star, the student athlete, more than the Woojin who finds himself awake in the early hours of the morning watching minecraft videos. These days the venn diagram of his friends and his teammates is pretty much a circle and, while there is definitely a bond there, forged by blood, sweat and tears; early morning practices, matches won in the pouring rain, and dorm drinking sessions late into the night, he wouldn't say they were particularly close.

 

Whenever he’s with them there’s a tight feeling in his chest, like an apprehension but he’s not sure what for. Perhaps it’s just concern that he’s going to have to see Sungwoon vomit from having too many ciders again. (The smell of apple still makes his stomach clench and he’d had to throw out that pair of shoes.) Whatever that claustrophobic feeling is, though, it’s probably not a big deal; you just can’t click with everybody right? It’s not realistic. Besides, they’re good friends for when he feels like shirking assignments and incrementally damaging his liver, even if the closest thing they’ve ever had to a heart to heart is a chest bump after a particularly neat goal on the field.

 

Really, Woojin is fine with his social circle just the way it is; it’s easy and effortless simply because it does not ask much from him. Yet, that doesn’t stop whatever bubbles up inside of him at the sight of Park Jihoon, as if somehow he is a ghost of the kind of person Woojin could have been in high school if he wasn’t too busy sleeping in class and being called into the principal’s office with a split lip and blood dried into the creases of his knuckles.

 

Except Jihoon, rightly or wrongly, doesn’t want much to do with him and ironically, they probably would never have spoken at all if he hadn’t rescued Woojin from the student campaigner that day. As he lies on his bed staring up at the ceiling after ending his call with Daehwi, Woojin feels irritation itch along his skin at the memory of Jihoon’s presumptiveness.

 

It feels silly to say he never expected such a thing from Jihoon because really, what does Woojin know of him? Very little, hardly enough to justify expectations of any kind. There’s only so much you can learn about someone from simply observing them in class.

 

He’d first noticed Jihoon because in a lecture hall filled by the persistent sound of the clacking of laptop keys, he was the only one handwriting notes - and he seemed to be keeping up too. That was remarkable and meant either he was a jaffy taking a second year unit, or he quite genuinely loved the class, in contrast to the thirty percent of laptop owners that Woojin could see were on social media instead of taking any notes at all. It was refreshing; and that, his at times bizarre dress sense and the way he would always stay to ask the lecturer a question after class but never spoke up during, combined to create an impression of the boy in Woojin’s mind that reminded him of the type of kid who sat by himself in the classroom at lunchtime, doing homework that wasn’t due for at least another week.

 

It was a lazy classification but one that fit quite neatly until Woojin heard Jihoon open his mouth for the first time and a hurricane of sass came flying out to knock him down.

 

So Woojin was wrong; Jihoon isn’t the socially challenged teacher’s pet he’d thought he was but he can’t deny that in spite of the jarringly negative experience of their first proper meeting, the glimpse at Jihoon’s true character was kind of exciting.

 

Maybe Jihoon was right about one thing. As much as Woojin can try to cruise through life, ducking and weaving around anything that makes him even vaguely uncomfortable, it doesn’t always work. Not when the only actions he can control are his own; not when there’s little he can do to halt Kim Doyeon’s stride towards him along the corridor between Block A and the Humanities Library. Her shoes clack sharply on the polished concrete floor like death knocking at his door and her expression says as much. She is as earth-shatteringly beautiful as ever, the tremors in the hearts of those she passes like earthquakes to the foundations of their very sense of self. Unlike Woojin, whose playing form is almost unrecognisable from the doormat he is in his day to day, she is no different on the field.

 

Park Woojin, in all his unwitting notoriety, has never been slapped. It is quite possible that this is about to change.

 

He gulps and looks for an out but the throng of people around them seems to part unconsciously as they go about their day, creating less of an escape route and more of a fighter’s ring for the impending throwdown.

 

It would be wrong to say that there has always been bad blood between he and Doyeon because it is less about them as individuals and more about their respective sports teams, but nor would it be right to classify the two as being on good terms. Frustration at the way their university’s women’s soccer team captained by Doyeon had to claw its way into existence with the funding the administration could spare them has always frayed at the edges of their relations and it is not helped that their achievements are continually overshadowed. Woojin gets it, it sucks, but he doesn’t know what it has to do with him. It’s not like he or Seongwu or the rest of the team had told the university to pay more attention to their comparative mediocrity than the unequivocal success of the women’s team.

 

Evidently though, whatever has put Doyeon in this mood, has very much to do with him and he could almost pretend he has no idea what it is if he hadn’t seen the looks she was sending his way the few times he inadvertently found himself in the company of Yoojung and her friends, of whom Doyeon was one. Interestingly, the looks he received bore no change after Yoojung and he had started dating, still as steely, still as reproachful as they were beforehand.

 

She’s only a few feet away now, eye contact maintained five seconds too many to be anything other than directly threatening. She’s seen him and she knows he’s seen her too.

 

Common sense would say it is best to stay there, get it over with, maybe even try to have the conversation on his own terms - his terms being ending it as quickly as possible - but what if Doyeon doesn’t want to have a conversation? What if she wants to sock him in the face and have at it instead?

 

There was a time when Woojin was more often seen with a black eye than without one but that is behind him now and really, in this case, it’s not like this is some school yard tussle. He can’t hit her back. Doesn’t want to, regardless. So that leaves his fight or flight instinct significantly narrowed down.

 

What are a few freshman toes stepped on if it means he can make a get away, he thinks as he takes off through the crowd of students making their way between classes. She’s wearing a skirt and her shoes have just the slightest bit of heel, there’s no way she’s coming after him.

 

As he skids around a corner he chances a look back and realises he was dead wrong - and now, probably, actually, dead. Kim Doyeon is in pursuit and if he still has unbroken legs tomorrow he’ll kick himself for underestimating her.

 

The look back has not only cost him valuable time, but blinded him to the stream of students making their way around the corner in the opposite direction and he nearly barrels directly into some first year who has their eyes glued to the map on their phone like it's a lifeline.

 

He dodges safely but comes to realise he has made a terrible, terrible mistake. He should have made a run for it in the opposite direction because now his only option is to go through one of the arts buildings by means of the dreaded revolving doors. Fidgeting antsily as he waits for the people in front of him to move - _why is everyone sleepwalking at a zombie pace today?_ \- he bounces on the balls of his feet, head whipping back and forth to look over his shoulder at where Doyeon is gaining ground. She has an unfair advantage in that the intimidation factor she possesses either 1) makes people get the hell out of her way immediately, or 2) makes people content with being stepped on.

 

His heart is in his throat as the door rotates around and he is millimetres from being able to step in when it stops. Some asshole inside must have unwittingly touched the glass and caused it to freeze and now he is going to die. It was probably the fault of the guy with the North Face backpack who is currently trying to push the revolving door back into motion manually and dear God can somebody please tell the idiot that he’s the root of the fucking problem. It is painful to watch and the few seconds it takes for the doors to start moving again feels like an eternity.

 

The euphoria he feels when he finally, _finally_ , gets to step into the revolving door is swiftly cut short when he senses someone at his shoulder, entering the same compartment.

 

He doesn’t need to look back to know that it’s Doyeon and he watches Backpack Guy exit the door and innocently enter the lobby of the building, totally unaware of the misery about to ensue that he is the cause of. Just as Woojin is thinking he can make another run for it, ignoring the voice in his head pleading with him to _just give it up_ , Doyeon reaches out an arm blocking the exit and forcing the two of them to continue through a second rotation, giving a polite smile to the people outside waiting for the door.

 

“We are going to have words, Park Woojin. Walk me to my car.” Her voice is as hard as her face is stone and leaves no room for contradiction. She’s not even out of breath. What the fuck.

 

The idea of walking Doyeon to her car is not one he is particularly fond of, for a number of reasons but most prominently, because he has never had a desire to be murdered in a dark corner of the university parking lot by the soccer captain who could puncture his temple with the tip of her car key should she fancy, if not with her gaze alone. She doesn’t seem concerned about being spotted in his company and thus implicated in the gossip surrounding his romantic entanglements, and something tugs at the edge of his consciousness, as if he should know why, but he can't put his finger on it so he puts it down to her general apathy towards the student rumour mill.

 

He doesn’t answer and they go for a third circuit.

 

“You want to do this here, instead?” she inquires, tone skeptical, mockery in the twist of her lip as she watches Woojin struggle for an excuse that she wouldn’t be able to see through immediately. It is clear that one way or another, they will be doing ‘ _this_ ’ and Woojin bleakly supposes that if he’s going to be torn to pieces he would rather it not happen where there are people to spectate and add it to their campus snapchat story.

 

Besides, he’s starting to feel a bit dizzy.

 

He comes up with nothing so he says “Lead the way,” and she does, all but escorting him back out of the revolving door the way they had come. The closer they get to the car park, the more Woojin wishes he hadn’t so effectively distanced himself from potential witnesses.

 

Despite her earlier persistence, Doyeon has not yet said anything and he’s unsure if she’s expecting him to ask or if she’s using the silence as a tool to make him squirm. If the latter, she’s succeeding, Woojin thinks as he fiddles with hem of his jumper.

 

“So, uh, what- what do you...want?”

 

“An explanation. From you. About just what the fuck you think you’re doing with Choi Yoojoung.”

 

“Whether or not I’m doing Choi Yoojung - is it really any of your business?” The words slip out and he regrets giving in to the provocation because the insinuation is far from the truth and an uncomfortable one at that.

 

Doyeon herself practically recoils but then she’s stabbing at his chest with a sharp fingernail, “I would doubt you’ve had the time considering the effort you go to avoid her these days. She’s not an idiot, you know, but clearly you are.”

 

“Still haven’t explained why it’s your business though.”

 

“There are a million people out there who would and should treat her better.”

 

“What, you mean like you?” he scoffs in an imitation of how this conversation is supposed to go, how it would go if this was a teen movie and he was talking to a jealous guy that Yoojung had friendzoned since sand pit era grade school.

 

“Yes,” answers Doyeon simply and Woojin is taken aback, coming to realise that she is not reading from a script like he was; she is writing her own. “Yes, I mean me.”

 

“Oh,” is Woojin’s dumbfounded, intelligent response and he supposes her eye roll of exasperation is not entirely uncalled for. “I- uh… I didn’t know that you..that she-”

 

Doyeon doesn’t have time to wait for Woojin to form a coherent sentence voicing his surprise at finding out she likes girls, she doesn’t care if he _‘wouldn’t have guessed!’_ or _‘had no idea!_ ’ - all she cares about is Yoojung.

 

“So for her sake, and mine, and God _even yours,_ please stand up for once in your life and let her down gently.” Her eyes are telling him she doesn’t think he has a gentle bone in his body but that that’s also not her problem, expecting him to source it from wherever necessary in order to comply. “You can fuck around with your own life as much as you want, I don’t care, but give the rest of us a chance at happiness.”

 

With those words and one last pointed look, she tugs open the door of her car and gets in, driving off. Woojin stares after her, long after the red glow of her tail lights has faded into the dark.

 

_Give the rest of us a chance at happiness._

 

It feels as if the words are lodged in his throat even though they are not his own because his mouth is dry and he is having trouble swallowing and he wasn't prepared to hear such a thing.

 

Woojin, honest to God, doesn't think he is a bad person. He is far, far from perfect and ready to admit it, but the exaggerated rumours spread about him since his first year have rendered such a stark backdrop that he can't help but look at the picture painted of him and assert that he is _not like that._ He is better than that. He is not so cruel as to use girls for his own gain before discarding them despite promising them the world.

 

After a while though, such assertions are made only in his own head; or to Daehwi who hardly needs convincing. The current of public opinion either wears you down or pulls you under and while Woojin has his head above the surface, it is not without cost; not without concession. He stopped fighting the person the world wants him to be long before he entered university.

 

Woojin’s immorality according to others is a misrepresentation, or so he has thought until now.

 

Until now, because at Doyeon’s words an uncomfortable realisation has begun worming its way into his consciousness; the offputting possibility that maybe he is not so innocent as he has thought all this time.

 

All his relationships over the past couple of years have petered out before they even really began, which was okay, he thought. He just hasn't found the right girl yet, surely, but instead he has found himself a pile of contradictions; unable to end things with no concrete reason but disinterest, not wanting to do so because it’s possible he and his girl of the month might finally find a spark, but at the same time he has not wanted to put in effort towards such a development.

 

The same happened with Yoojung; the two met at one of the business faculty mixers at the beginning of the semester, and Woojin, loitering by the drinks table and wanting to go home had practically basked in the glow of this girl who shone with exuberance yet still wanted to talk to him. They talked. Got along well. Exchanged phone numbers. So when she asked him out, what reason did he have to say no?

 

Things had been going well but, in a pattern of behaviour all too familiar to Woojin, the pressure of things getting off to a good start began to get to him because, outside of enjoying her company, he didn’t feel any particular connection with her. Most likely, it was too early to know but Woojin’s anxieties about the situation started to wear away at them until he felt nauseous simply at the idea of running into Yoojung. Not because he disliked her as a person, he hadn’t been lying when he’d said she was lovely, but everything going perfectly well was just as scary for him as everything going up in flames. The latter option might have been easier because then he’d have an explanation for why he feels the way he does. After all, he and Mina were best friends and everything should have been fine; but one day it just wasn’t and if he doesn’t know how they found themselves on that road then how will he be able to navigate away from it this time? Or next time?

 

All he has are positive experiences but negative emotions to match and how does he explain that to her when he can hardly fathom it himself?

 

The guilt he feels about avoiding Yoojung and hoping she’ll get the message is only just outweighed by the guilt he would feel from turning her down without proper justification so, if neither option is a happy end then he might as well go for the easier one.

 

He hadn’t thought that, in playing this cat and mouse game, he would actually become an obstacle to Yoojung’s happiness rather than a swift, simple detour. Maybe he hadn’t really thought about her happiness at all. After all, he was too egotistical to imagine that she might have other options, other people waiting for a chance with someone whose precious time was being used up by some apathetic asshole.

 

Is this what everyone else sees when they look at him? Is this what Park Jihoon saw?

 

Woojin thought that because the real story was far less salacious than the rumours, that it was far more understandable; that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but playing around with someone’s feelings is still playing around even if unintentional, and some people - namely Seongwu - might argue that it’s even worse because Yoojung has had to deal with his mess without any action to show for it.

 

And- if Woojin has been such an impediment for Yoojung in such a relatively small amount of time, he can’t bear to think of the extent to which he has thrown Kang Mina’s life off course; how much he might have diminished her chances of happiness, either by herself or with someone who really loves her.

 

It’s only now that Woojin really thinks about the last thing Jihoon said to him before he left the cafe that day.

 

_“If you decide you want to change things, come find me.”_

 

Maybe, Woojin has got it all wrong; maybe Jihoon wasn’t there to reproach him but to offer some kind of help. God knows why but maybe Jihoon was trying to be nice. For so long, Woojin has let the expectations of others mold him, but maybe this time he’ll be choosing to make a change because it’s him who wants to, not anybody else.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Approaching Jihoon, however, is just as difficult as it’s always been, if not more so; even when presented with the perfect opportunity. Even when Woojin has spotted Jihoon sitting by himself at a table by one of the campus lawns, studying alone in the sunshine.

 

All he has to do is walk up and ask him what he meant by his offer that time at the cafe. Easy. Simple. He sets out towards Jihoon before being struck by a thought and changing course, walking past him instead as Woojin wonders if Jihoon will actually want to talk to him. He pauses several yards away, watching Jihoon who is peacefully absorbed in his textbook.

 

Is it possible Jihoon would turn him away on sight?

 

But no, there’s nothing Jihoon knows about him now that he didn’t before and even then, knowing some of his history with Mina, presumably having heard it from the mouth of her older brother, he still suggested they get coffee together. Regardless of motivation, he was willing to tolerate Woojin, at the very least.

 

So he steps forward again, intent on reaching Jihoon’s table but more doubts surface before he can get very far and yet again he changes trajectory, passing Jihoon by.

 

What if Jihoon’s words hadn’t been a genuine offer? What if, in proposing to help Woojin change his approach, Jihoon had merely been mocking him, simply trying to get in the last biting word before Woojin left the cafe?

 

Woojin has been walking from the shade of one tree to another, past Jihoon’s study spot, for the past five minutes, unable to work up the courage to approach, losing his nerve at the last minute everytime.

 

Surely, it must look odd to an outsider but then again the only other person who has been here for the last five minutes is Jihoon himself who has not looked up once. Any other passerby seeking Woojin would never guess that he had travelled across the same stretch of grass, back and forth, seemingly without aim or direction.

 

It’s then that Woojin is struck by the realisation that he is just a little pathetic. In the past week he has unashamedly run away from someone through the campus, found himself trapped in a revolving door and now, he can’t even walk up to his classmate and say hi.

 

He can almost hear Daehwi’s voice in his ear telling him that, _dude, you have a serious problem_.

 

For some reason it sounds very much like something Jihoon would say too and as cautious as Woojin might still be about his relations with Jihoon, he trusts Daehwi, even just his mental representation surfacing in Woojin’s brain, so it must be a good idea.

 

Step, by step, growing in confidence, Woojin makes it within two feet of Jihoon before he is once again overwhelmed by the desire to flee. Jihoon looks up at him, and the eye contact freezes Woojin to the spot.

 

“About time,” Jihoon says dryly, highlighter still poised in his hand. “I wasn’t sure you were ever going to make it this far what with how you’ve been dawdling for the last five minutes.”

 

Evidently, Jihoon wasn’t as absorbed in his study as Woojin assumed; the latter flushing a little at the idea that his inner ordeal, far from being private, had been noticed by its very object.

 

“You, ah, saw that?”

 

“You’re not very subtle.”

 

“Thank goodness I’ve never claimed to be.”

 

Jihoon snorts. “Did you want something?”

 

“Uh, yeah, to talk. About what you said when we got coffee that time? I don’t know if you remember…”

 

“Ironically, neither of us had coffee,” Jihoon can’t help but point out, “but yes I remember. Take a seat.” His expression is neutral as he sets down his highlighter pen and gives Woojin his full attention. That’s as good a sign as any, Woojin figures.

 

“Is now a good time?” he asks as he sits down on the bench on the opposite side of the table, gesturing to the array of study material splayed out in front of them.

 

“If it wasn’t, do you think I’d let you sit here and distract me?” Jihoon teases with a wry smile. “Now seriously, what’s on your mind?”

 

Woojin fiddles with his hands, tugging at some of the dry skin around his thumb nail before voicing his query. “What did you mean when you said that if I wanted to change things, I should come find you?”

 

There’s a pause before Jihoon responds. “I’m not going to pretend I know everything about you but I’ve had my fair share of experience letting people or life in general just steamroll over me. It’s tiring, I thought you might be tired too.”

 

“So you want to...help me? Or something?” Woojin’s still not sure he quite understands.

 

“Do you need help?” The way Jihoon asks is free of connotation or preconception, as if whether or not Woojin needs help is entirely a matter for Woojin to decide, regardless of what Jihoon thinks.

 

“I- maybe. I think so,” Woojin says more firmly, before adding quietly. “I think I’ve hurt more people than I realised.”

 

“Do you want my help?”

 

“I don’t really have anyone else to ask, no offence.”

 

Jihoon doesn’t look offended, he looks surprised because surely Woojin must have a closer friend to talk to about this than someone he only properly met last week, but Woojin is too embarrassed to explain that relationships of trust don’t come easy to him. Which shortens the list considerably and puts Jihoon disconcertingly near the top.

 

“Okay then. I’ll help.” Jihoon’s smile is kind and reassuring, and Woojin’s one is tentative but hopeful.

 

To be honest, Woojin didn’t expect Jihoon to pick up his highlighters again but he does, and goes to quite a bit of effort drawing up a diagrammatic colour-coded action plan on how Woojin can make amends and begin to turn his apathy into empathy and his avoidance into assertiveness. In hindsight, knowing what he does of Jihoon, he really shouldn’t have been surprised.

 

Step One is easy, or so Jihoon says. Step One is practicing saying no to people.

 

It starts off kind of silly, really. Jihoon will turn to him whenever they’re together and demand something ridiculous of him.

 

“Woojin, wash my car for me.”

 

“No.”

 

“Come one, just this once? I don’t have time this weekend.”

 

“No.”

 

 

 

 

 

"Woojin let me take a photo of you."

 

"No."

 

"Why not?"

 

"I'm in my pyjamas."

 

(Jihoon will take the photo anyway.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Woojin, lend me ￥50,000.”

 

“No.”

 

“Please, I’ll pay you back!”

 

“No.”

 

“Woojin,” Jihoon will take his hand and look into his eyes. “Please.”

 

Woojin will try to ignore the way it makes his heart stutter. “Uh..no?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Woojin, go out with me.”

 

“No.”

 

“Why? We might be soulmates, you won’t know until we try!”

 

“No,” Woojin will squeak out and try not to laugh at Jihoon’s dramatics.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It happens naturally that the two of them begin spending more time together; eating out, studying together, playing video games. Woojin, after all, doesn’t have a lot of friends to hang out with anyway and Jihoon’s dorm is a single so he doesn’t have a roommate to bother or worry about bothering. To his credit, Woojin's roommate Hyeongseob is extraordinarily patient with them but the guy deserves a break from the hurricane of the two Park boys every once in a while.

 

They’re sitting shoulder to shoulder playing Call of Duty at 3am when Woojin looks over at Jihoon’s face, almost ethereal in the way it glows in the light of the TV screen in the dark room, and realises that they’ve become friends.

 

It’s a realisation that comes a week or so late, but nonetheless Woojin is happy about it, unsure exactly how he got so lucky as to go from staring at the other in class to sitting next to him in it.

 

(“Can I sit here?” Jihoon had asked of the seat beside Woojin at the back of the lecture hall.

 

“No,” Woojin replied cheekily, to which Jihoon rolled his eyes and sat anyway.)

 

Woojin turns back to the screen with a smile on his face that Jihoon catches, and returns lazily as he rests back against the sofa, content to watch Woojin play for a while as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes. Jihoon’s hand is resting on his thigh and Woojin wonders if this is one of the things he’s meant to say no to, but he finds he doesn’t want to, so he just stays silent in the hopes that Jihoon will keep it there.

 

Change happens slowly but surely, and it starts with Yoojung. Woojin is so giddy about his new-found friendship that he nearly forgets the reason why it had be formed in the first place. They never did get past Step One, but maybe all the other steps weren’t that important because Jihoon seems to think he’s ready when they bump into Yoojung during a coffee run. They’re about to leave the cafe just as she walks in.

 

Woojin is nervous but as long as it stays out of his eyebrows this is going to go well. Or as well as it can, as well as is within his control. It takes a lot of effort on Woojin’s part to conquer his flight instinct, to keep his feet glued to the ground, chin up, a strained smile on his face. By contrast, it takes very little from Jihoon. A hand pressed, firm but gentle, to the small of Woojin’s back. A word or two of encouragement murmured into Woojin’s ear. The flip of his stomach is from nerves but he cannot confidently discern the source.

 

Yoojung looks surprised, but not altogether bothered by Woojin asking if she has time for a chat.

 

“I always have time to talk you, Woojin,” she says and he’s reminded again just how lovely she really is, just how kind because there is no sign of hostility or the slightest of grudges despite him ghosting her for longer than the most empathetic  person in the world would be able to understand.

 

“Let me buy you a drink,” he says.

 

“Okay,” she agrees with a small smile. She answers in the same way when he apologises for his behaviour.

 

“I really am sorry,” he reiterates. “I’ve been an asshole and you deserve better than that.”

 

“It’s okay.” The smile is still there. “I sort of got the hint that you weren’t interested anymore...or at all..and I can’t say your reputation didn’t precede you. I confess I thought maybe everyone had you wrong, and maybe I was right, in the end. I didn’t expect you to apologise so, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re too good for this world?”

 

Yoojung blushes. “No…”

 

“Well they should. I’m happy to keep saying it but, ah, I’ve heard there might be a certain someone who is out for my job. Well, my head. It’s not like I’ve been very good at fulfilling the job description of boyfriend or...date partner...”

 

“Oh, and who would that be?”

 

Woojin’s not quite sure why he’s decided to play matchmaker, maybe as thanks to Doyeon for kicking his ass into gear. Maybe it's because he's taken enough from people already and he's not sure how to rectify that but this must at least be a start. “I have a feeling you’ll find out pretty soon.” He waggles his eyebrows playfully for extra emphasis.

 

“Oh gosh, you really can’t do mysterious, please stop moving your eyebrows I’m going to choke on my drink,” she giggles, coughing and spluttering a little. Woojin watches her with amusement, unable to be offended because when you’re in the company of sunshine you’re bound to get a little bit burned.

 

“I know this is a cliche,” he starts, “but do you think we can still be friends?”

 

“I would be delighted,” she says and she truly sounds it. “We should see each other more, catch up about things.” It’s her turn to waggle an eyebrow but he doesn’t protest the hypocrisy.

 

“Things?” he asks curiously, sure she has something particular in mind.

 

“Like that boy waiting for you outside,” she says teasingly, nodding to where Jihoon is sitting at one of the wrought-iron cafe chairs outside, sipping from his iced chocolate and playing on his phone. “I can see why you wouldn’t be interested in me with someone like him around.”

 

Woojin is the one who’s choking and spluttering now. “It’s not like that,” he manages to squeak out and Yoojung just gives him one of her smiles.

 

“Okay,” she says, and amazingly he believes her. He thinks that the two of them might just be okay after all this.

 

They go their separate ways soon after as Yoojung has a study date with Doyeon to get to (“ _Not like that!”_ she protested, cheeks pink when he’d winked at her, unknowingly echoing Woojin's earlier denial) and the proud smile on Jihoon’s face as Woojin exited the cafe clearly successful in his endeavour, makes the warmth he feels multiply tenfold.

 

“You know, Yoojung thought we were dating,” Woojin says casually as he and Jihoon walk back to his dorm. He doesn't have a reason for bringing it up other than that he's curious as to what Jihoon's reaction will be.

 

“If only I were so lucky, to date soccer superstar Park Woojin-” Jihoon’s theatrical anguish is interrupted when Woojin punches him on the shoulder playfully.

 

“Shut up.” Woojin can’t help sounding fond.

 

“I have a thing for athletes, you know.”

 

“So does half the campus, that’s why Kim Doyeon is so popular.”

 

“Doyeon is beautiful,” Jihoon agrees, “but she’s not really my type. Have you _seen_ Ong Seongwu?”

 

“I have actually, funnily enough the captain does come to the training sessions he schedules,” Woojin teases, filing the information Jihoon has trusted him with away for later. He didn’t know that Jihoon was into boys but then again, he has never heard Jihoon gush about any girls either. This feels entirely different to his conversation with Doyeon. He hadn't necessarily cared when she'd told him he'd just been a little shocked but why does it feel like this is something he's particularly happy to hear from Jihoon? Maybe because it's a sign he's opening up to him? That must be it, and the way Woojin's heart constricts oddly discourages him from thinking too much about it.

 

“Hot _and_ dedicated, he’s the perfect man,” Jihoon pretends to swoon and the two break into laughter. Woojin doesn’t need to tell him that if heterosexuality were a team sport Seongwu would be captain of that too. It’s obvious enough to anyone who’s ever been within 10 ft of him.

 

But Jihoon doesn't sound entirely serious, if anything just happy to watch from afar. Woojin can sort of relate.

 

What Woojin does think about telling him though, is that his abs are  _far_ more impressive than Seongwu's but he keeps his mouth shut and saves himself the embarrassment of being asked why he's so competitive about it. Woojin's just a competitive guy, he guesses.

 

Woojin’s good mood is mitigated slightly by the effort it takes, trying to ignore the way Yoojung’s words are resounding in his skull even after he’s put several blocks between himself and their source. _“I can see why you wouldn’t be interested in me with someone like him around.”_ He shakes his head and focuses on what Jihoon is saying, unable to appreciate the irony that his first successful confrontation has ultimately just given him something else to run away from.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s been hours but it feels like days and Woojin’s back has been sending signals to his brain that he’s pretty sure are the neural equivalent of curse words since before he started on his referencing, so he stands up to stretch, giving into the complaints of his body and giving up on citing sources for the moment. He always leaves it until last instead of doing it as he goes and he always suffers as a result.

 

Closing his eyes he arches his back, bending his arms at the elbow and stretching outward, trying and failing not to let out a satisfied groan at the sensation of his joints cracking, relieving tension and taking just the slightest bit of assignment stress along with it. When he opens his eyes, Jihoon is looking at him.

 

Not the regular kind of looking, mind you. Woojin is not (that) silly; he can see the hint of a blush on Jihoon’s cheeks, he did see where Jihoon’s eyes were lingering before they flicked back to his textbook to avoid eye contact.

 

Jihoon was _looking_ ー and it causes a tingle to run through him, head to toe. _There it is_ , he thinks, as he flushes at the attention. Maybe there is the reason he can’t tell all those girls no. He likes the attention too much; the way it validates his place among his team mates, in a social hierarchy where female attention is commodified and translated into popularity.

 

Except Jihoon’s appreciative glances don't constitute female attention, but Woojin does not stop to wonder why he likes it so much regardless, why it pleases him when all the interest of his past girlfriends or dates or whatever they were has only ever made him want to run the other way.

 

He’s not sure about a lot of things but what he does know is that pink suits Jihoon and Woojin likes the way it’s dusted itself across his cheeks. He likes that he’s the one who put it there, albeit unintentionally, and it’s ignited something inside of him that wants to somehow do it again, on purpose this time.

 

But he’s dangerously low on sleep and if he couldn't even make the decision to start his references hours earlier when he was less tired. then his train of thought now is even less likely to make sense.

 

Woojin walks away from the table to find one more book to add to his references list and when he returns from decoding the library classification system that he always forgets how to read, he finds Jihoon has given in to the call of morpheus, resting his head on his arms as he sleeps on the desk.

 

Trying to be as quiet as possible, Woojin sits back down in his spot and carefully places the hefty book on the table. He doesn’t open it though, instead pillowing his head on his arms like Jihoon but instead of closing his eyes he lets them wander over the sleepng form of his study mate.

 

Jihoon, normally sharp-tongued and troublesome when awake, is the perfect image of an angel when asleep and Woojin finds himself admiring the softness of his cheeks and the way his delicate eyelashes rest against them, long enough to make any girl jealous. It must be because he is so tired that Woojin’s gaze roaming Jihoon’s features eventually ends up on his mouth, rose pink puckered into a slight pout and Woojin wonders what Jihoon is dreaming about, who Jihoon is trying to wheedle a favour out of.

 

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, and he hopes no one has noticed that Woojin’s eyes haven’t left Jihoon. There’s something about his friend’s steady breathing and peaceful expression that relaxes him and makes him forget about uni stress and assignment deadlines even in the heart of the library, even if just for a moment. The longer he stares, the more his chest aches with something indescribable until it becomes unbearable and Woojin has to shut his eyes. The feeling reminds him of the days when the two weren’t yet friends, when he yearned to know Jihoon better. They are close now, it doesn’t make sense for Woojin to still long to be impossibly closer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It seems like Jihoon is always carrying a camera around, one of those classic film ones as far as he can tell, but Woojin has never seen any of the photos he takes. It's something he's curious about but it's something that's obviously quite close to Jihoon's heart in more ways than just the physical so he doesn't ask about it. If one day Jihoon feels comfortable sharing them then Woojin will happily partake, if not, then he'll mind his own business. So, it's honestly entirely an accident when Woojin comes across Jihoon's folio.  
  
"Park Jihoon, aren't you supposed to be organised?"  
  
"We're all human Woojin, just bring me my freaking towel," growls Jihoon through the crack in the bathroom door, embarrassed at having forgotten to bring a towel with him to shower when he has a guest over.  
  
"Oh no, 'freaking'?" Woojin pretends to quiver as he walks over to the amenities cupboard that Jihoon had pointed out with a dripping arm. "You're really cranky today Jihoonie I can't believe you'd use such language with me."  
  
"Shut up," Jihoon says smartly before closing the bathroom door as if it's a barrier to protect him from the verbal assault.  
  
Woojin laughs and rifles through the cupboard looking for a towel big enough to be of use but nothing is sorted in anything close to an order so he has to dig through face washers and hand towels before he finds something bigger. He raps on the bathroom door and offers his findings to Jihoon with an overexaggerated reverence that quickly becomes embarrassing. It belatedly occurs to Woojin that kneeling down to proffer up the towel like a servant to his regent is only funny when the recipient isn't stark naked behind a semi-opened bathroom door. Woojin rises quickly, clearing his throat and averting his eyes as Jihoon takes the towel.  
  
"Thanks," he says cheekily, "I guess I'll have to use 'freaking' and other swear words more often if it will get you on your knees for me," before promptly closing the door again.  
  
Woojin busies himself with refolding the towels he's unfurled in his search in an effort to pretend there is not a blush gracing his cheeks. He can't see it though so who's to say it's actually there? Maybe his cheeks are just, hot - just because. Because Woojin himself is hot.  
  
Woojin is distracted from his own flawless logic when he spots something wedged at the back of the closet that looks like a book. Taking it out, he flips through it and realises with a jolt that this is an album of Jihoon's photos, maybe not a recent one given the location he'd found it in, but nonetheless these photos were taken by Jihoon, taken with his quick fingers and developed by his careful hands. He snaps it shut as soon as he realises what it is but his gnawing curiosity is what causes him to stare at the cover, debating whether or not to open it again and take a peek ー and that's when Jihoon steps out of the bathroom, fully dressed, arms raised above his head as he rubs his hair dry.  
  
Jihoon immediately sees what Woojin has in his hands and tenses as the other scrambles to explain himself.  
  
"I'm sorry, I just found it while looking for the towel."  
  
"Did you look at it?"  
  
"I closed it as soon as I saw what it was."  
  
That seems to satisfy Jihoon although he still looks as if he is debating himself in his head.  
  
"Have I ever shown you my photos?" Woojin shakes his head mutely to which Jihoon gestures for him to sit down on the sofa. "Then you can have a look at those ones."  
  
Woojin sits down cautiously and Jihoon sits opposite, occupying himself with drying his hair and occasionally looking up to gauge Woojin's expression.  
  
They're good photos. Good is probably an understatement but Woojin doesn't know a lot about photography. He supposes it helps to have a good looking model, and whoever this is, featured in practically every one, is handsome enough to have helped a great deal. Woojin's not sure how Jihoon's done it but there is a tenderness conveyed in each shot, strong enough to confirm Woojin's suspicions that this is probably an ex-boyfriend.  
  
"We broke up last year," Jihoon speaks up, answering the questions Woojin has yet to ask.

 

"I’m sorry," Woojin says because it doesn't sound like it was amicable.

 

Jihoon shrugs. "Those aren’t even half of all the ones I took."

 

"Where are the others?"

 

"He took them."

 

"Took them?"

 

"With him. When he left. They’re all he wanted me for, I guess." Jihoon’s skin is still gleaming from the steam of the shower, looking pink and a little raw where he hastily scrubbed himself dry and it gives him a look of vulnerability that Woojin finds hard to stomach. "A photographer boyfriend is a must-have for any aspiring model, I suppose."

 

Woojin feels anger boiling in his gut that whoever this guy is, no matter how pretty, he’s reduced Jihoon to this, this shadow of low self-esteem and even though Jihoon is usually bright enough to hide it, it clearly still lingers even all these months later.

 

Woojin closes the book, unable to bear looking at the face of someone who’s hurt Jihoon like this.

 

"He was always pushing me to go digital but I have never enjoyed it as much as film.  I never understood why he was so insistent but it would have made it easier for him to build up his folio if I had, I guess."

 

"What about your portfolio?"

 

"I can always take more photos."

 

It’s only now that Woojin feels prompted to finally ask what he should have long ago. "Does this have to do with why you offered to help me? I never really understood why you cared."

 

Jihoon stares down at the coffee table before looking up at Woojin, the mockery of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

 

"Your reputation preceded you." God, how Woojin hates that expression. "I felt invested not just because I know Mina through her brother, but because I’ve also been her. The one that's strung along." His expression turns apologetic. "I don't mean to criticise you, I know you didn't realise you were doing it. You’re different to…Donghan. But I empathised with Mina and then the other girls, all the same."

 

Woojin simply nods because he can't deny what is the truth. He has no need to defend himself now, nor would it be an appropriate time. Jihoon is opening up to him and Woojin is worried that the merest breath from him will stir the wind and frighten him back into locking all this emotion back up inside.

 

"At first I was curious about what kind of person you were underneath all the gossip and from then on I really thought that we could help each other. That I could help you turn your relationships around and that you…"

 

"That I?" he prompts softly.

 

"That you could help me prove to myself that I was more than just someone who had let the person he loved walk all over him."

 

"You are so much more than that."

 

Jihoon simply smiles weakly in response and grows quiet, like he’s either run out of energy or words or both. Silently, Woojin stands, abandoning the photo album to the coffee table and taking Jihoon’s hand instead; leading him back into the bathroom where Woojin can plug in the hair dryer and dry Jihoon’s hair for him properly.

 

He tries his best to be gentle, avoiding the tips of Jihoon’s ears as much as possible and tenderly carding his fingers through the strands as they warm and grow lighter. Jihoon’s eyes drift closed at the sensation and when he’s done, Woojin presses a soft kiss to the crown of Jihoon’s head, a fierce protectiveness fighting to overwhelm him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sweat dripping into his eyes must have obscured his vision because there is a heart-slamming moment, amidst the fervour of victory, where he thinks he sees someone standing on the sidelines; someone who does not fit the picture, as if there in dream only, yet with the clarity of a photograph pasted upon an impressionist painting. Then he loses sight, as Seongwu is slinging another arm around his neck in excitement, nearly knocking Woojin’s skull against the hard head of Ha Minho as they head to the locker room.

 

Woojin barely registers the blistering heat of the hastily mixed water when stepping into the shower, too lost in the eerie deja vu he felt when seeing that figure on the sidelines. He hasn’t had someone come to watch his matches like that since high school.

 

_It’s only the first match of the season so it’s not a big deal that they’ve won, but when he leaves the locker room she’s racing at him, launching into a hug and he’s laughing, catching her in his arms and swinging her around; her excitement infectious and he wonders what he’s done to deserve such a supportive friend in Kang Mina. Her legs are locked around his middle, his arms roped around her waist and she congratulates him breathlessly._

 

_“Congratulations superstar.” She’s still wearing his jacket after he’d given it to her for safe keeping before the match._

 

_“You’re going to have to stop calling me that,” he rolls his eyes. “If my ego grows because of how much you feed it, then where will I be?”_

 

_“Your little fan club does enough of that, I’m hardly making a difference.”_

 

_“Surely, you’re not jealous?” he teases, turning his head this way and that to try to catch her eye as she stubbornly twists away._

 

_When she finally gives up the act and looks at him straight on, she says biting her lip and stifling an almost embarrassed giggle, “So what if I am?”_

 

_He loosens his grip preparing to let her down but she simply clings tighter. “Nope,” she objects, “gotta let your fans know what’s what. Gotta exercise those best friend privileges, y’know.”_

 

_“If there’s anyone you have to worry about, it’s probably Daehwi. He can get pretty territorial,” he warns, trying and failing at wearing an expression of consternation._

 

_“You know full well he’s wanting piggy back rides from someone else these days.”_

 

 _“Good luck to him, the guy’s a twig,” Woojin mumbles. “Are you seriously going to make me carry you all the way to the car? Since when is that best friend privilege, I don’t remember you ever carrying_ me _anywhere!”_

 

_“C’mon, you made me go to the gym with you enough times to warrant some kind of payback.”_

 

_“You were happy enough when you were making all those workout playlists, you’re going to pretend you were there under duress?”_

 

_Mina sniffs and doesn’t reply._

 

_“At least let me carry you on my back instead.”_

 

_“Fine,” she sighs dramatically, slipping down to give him time to sling his kit bag around his neck and reposition._

 

_As Mina hops up and settles on his back, Minhyuk passes by on his way out of the gate, cupping his hands around his mouth and crowing at the two of them “Just fuck already!”_

 

_Woojin instantly moves to set her down again, despite her protests. “C’mon, let me put you down so I can kick his ass,” he whines and she laughs, slapping at his chest with an open palm._

 

_“You kicked enough ass on the field, you really want to pick a fight with the vice?”_

 

_“You don’t think I’d win?”_

 

_They bicker like that all the way down the street to where he’d parked his car, until the heavens open and the deluge of rain that has been threatening all afternoon finally pours down like an attempt from someone up above to get them to shut up._

 

_The rainstorm has mostly passed by the time they arrive at Mina’s house to drop her off. She’s still wearing his jacket so he gets out of the car and walks her to the door._

 

_If this were a movie, then now would be when he kisses her right? He thinks he’s been reading the signs correctly, the ones that have been there for a while now and when she hesitates on the doorstep he figures that’s confirmation enough that she is waiting for him to do something._

 

_It’s still raining lightly, and she’s looking up at him, hand reaching out, fingers ghosting over the faded bruise on his cheekbone, then the place where his lip was split and is now scabbed over. She doesn’t ask which are his, borne in the aftermath of his self-made gladiation, nor which were dealt in private with no provocation._

 

_Her touch is gentle, warm, and he responds in kind, brushing her fringe out of her eyes from where the rain has plastered it to her forehead._

 

_By all accounts this is the perfect moment to kiss her and while Woojin is not entirely sure when the line between friends and something more had been blurred for them he figures that if he had to kiss anyone it would be Kang Mina; of all the girls he knows it would be her that he’d pick. After all, everyone has been telling them they’d make a good couple, that they’ll end up together eventually. It makes sense for him to kiss Mina._

 

_So he does. He’s added everything up, satisfied with his conclusion, so he leans down and kisses her. All it is is a cold press of the lips, really, and Woojin watches Mina’s eyes flutter closed before remembering that he’s meant to do the same. They stay like that for a moment, movements slow, her small hands brought up to fist the fabric of his jumper. There is a stray raindrop sliding down his neck and he itches to wipe it away before it disappears under his collar._

 

_When they part, Mina pulls him into a fierce hug and the smile pressed against his shoulder tells him that he must be doing something right._

 

Woojin is broken from his thoughts when one of his teammates calls out to him from the change room.

 

“Woojin hurry the fuck up! Party now, wank later!”

 

He pulls back the shower curtain just enough to shoot a middle finger in response before grabbing to soap to actually shower, rather than simply stand under the stream of water.

 

When he finally exits the locker room with the rest of the team, intent on heading out to some bar to celebrate and get appropriately sloshed, the figment of Woojin’s imagination is standing under the eaves of the club room, staring out into the drizzling rain, camera poised to capture the now deserted soccer pitch. Waiting for him.

 

The soft smile on Jihoon’s lips, _in his eyes_ , as he turns to look at Woojin, heedless of the shivers that wrack his body in the chill of the evening, is a sight so deeply touching that it disturbs him. Even more so, because Jihoon isn’t supposed to be here.

 

Jihoon isn’t supposed to go within a mile of the soccer pitch; isn’t supposed to be this side of campus; he never has before.

 

Woojin isn’t supposed to see him here; isn’t supposed to want to wrap the other boy in the tightest hug imaginable in an effort to shield his slight frame from the cold and the wind and the weight of the world; but he can’t say he’s never wanted to before.

 

And there, lies the problem. Jihoon brings out things in him that don’t belong here, in this space where Woojin has found a niche to fit himself into at whatever cost. Jihoon stokes parts of Woojin to life that he doesn’t know how to deal with and Woojin has to desperately remind himself that he still belongs here, this place of sweat and blood and tears that has formed him through adolescence, even if _those_ parts of him don’t.

 

The babble of the team has lulled as they notice Woojin has a visitor; Jihoon must be here for him, they reason, because his eyes have not left the forward for a moment and it is Hyunmin who places a casual hand on Woojin’s shoulder and says they’ll see him at the car.

 

He should feel happy and flattered that his friend has put in the effort to come watch him play and while he does to a degree, the feeling is overshadowed by anxiety at seeing Jihoon where he did not expect to see him; where he can be seen by others; where their connection can become public knowledge.

 

The uncomfortable truth is that though they are few, there are still people, even as adults, whose superiority complex prevents them from letting go of the senseless hierarchies of high school life. Woojin would detest himself if he was ashamed to be friends with Jihoon just because such people might view the two of them as belonging to opposite social groups - and deep down Woojin knows that that isn’t why he is so discomforted seeing Jihoon at the soccer pitch.

 

He’s in tune enough with himself (ironically, thanks in part to Jihoon) to see the way he has existed in two separate spheres - the public; his soccer career and the popularity inherent in that, and the private; the confident sensitivity that has been fostered through his friendship with the boy in his history class - and that with Jihoon’s presence the two are set to collide.

 

Woojin isn’t sure he’s prepared to deal with the ramifications. He’s not sure he ever will be.

 

He’s not even sure how to deal with the wolf whistle that echoes as the others walk away, leaving Woojin and Jihoon alone together.

 

“Hi,” Jihoon says softly, dispersing the silence rather than breaking it.

 

“Hi,” Woojin replies back faintly, embarrassed that the purposeful way in which his teammates have given them space has reduced them to an awkwardness not unlike that between children whose parents have forced them to play together.

 

“Congratulations superstar, you guys smashed it.” Jihoon’s words are clearly sincere but they are somehow tentative, and Woojin wonders where his straightforward, fast-talking Jihoon has gone, leaving him with this shy, blushing version instead.

 

Woojin knows the words are meant to make him feel proud but all he feels is sick to the stomach at the way that they echo unpleasantly in the recesses of his memory. Clearing his throat, he says, “Thanks. Thank you for coming to watch.”

 

There isn’t really any solid reason why Jihoon hasn’t come to a match before. Maybe he’s been busy, maybe he’d wanted Woojin to invite him rather than just turning up but Woojin supposes if that were the case, a grand final like this is enough of an occasion for the broader university, not just the players, to have a vested interest, and require no such an invitation. Maybe Jihoon was put off by the significance suddenly hanging heavy in the air, like the scent of petrichor and its promise of rain, because undoubtedly there is something important, something different now, because of Jihoon coming today and if the former had somehow known to predict it, Woojin certainly hadn’t.

 

Some of the crowd must have been caught in the rain as much as the players because Jihoon’s hair is soaked and by the looks of it so is his hoodie. Without thinking Woojin shrugs off his jacket, his hand outstretched to offer it when he freezes. He can’t not offer it now that he’s made his intentions clear but he doesn’t even hear Jihoon’s protests about Woojin becoming cold, he is too preoccupied with the desire to take everything back, unwind to the time before Jihoon had come to see him play soccer and made everything too weird, too familiar.

 

Jihoon eventually accepts the jacket with thanks and Woojin’s brain is entirely consumed by the neural equivalent of frantic exclamation marks because seeing Jihoon wearing his clothes, _wearing Woojin’s clothes_ , if only a jacket is sparking a sensation in his chest that he can only vaguely identify as what must be alarm. If not alarm, he has no idea what it could be. He needs to go, he needs to go, he needs to go, he needs to stop looking into Jihoon’s eyes like he’ll find all the answers there because he just might but is consumed by an indistinct fear that he won’t like whatever he discovers them to be.

 

Because unlike the night that he and Mina had gotten together, this doesn’t make sense. From the outside there is no reason why Woojin should be giving Jihoon his jacket in such a way, staring down at him fighting the urge to brush the wet hair plastered to his forehead out of his eyes. From the outside, that is not how things are meant to go but inside, inside Woojin is surprised by how natural it feels to want to do these things, even if the construction of the situation does not point towards this as an obvious conclusion.

 

The circumstantial clues he has come to rely on aren’t present and it confuses him to realise that he doesn’t need them. Woojin had looked at Mina and known that she wanted him to kiss her. In some kind of skewed parallel, Woojin is looking at Jihoon, his friend Jihoon, and does not know what Jihoon is thinking at all, and yet- it is not the wants of the other person that he is acutely aware of in this moment. It is his own.

 

“I have to go,” he blurts out suddenly, forcefully ending the silence between them.

 

Jihoon looks taken aback, as if content to have stood beside Woojin saying nothing for the rest of the night but the surprise, and what could be hurt at Woojin’s abruptness, is quickly replaced by guilt. “I’m sorry, yeah you should. Your friends are waiting.”

 

 _“You’re my friend_ ,” Woojin wants to remark, to point out that Jihoon is just as much a priority, if not more so, than his teammates but the words don’t sound right for some reason so he simply nods mutely.

 

“Text me so I know you’re home safe,” Jihoon calls after him as Woojin leaves with a half-hearted wave and Woojin musters the capacity to respond in kind.

 

“You too.”

 

Woojin can’t help it but his change of mood is obvious even in the clamouring atmosphere of whatever bar Seongwu has picked out, unable to be masked by losing himself in dancing fuelled by a number of Jägerbombs he can’t remember. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back and tries not to think about what Jihoon is doing right now. It doesn’t work because Woojin’s brain was long accustomed to thinking about Jihoon long before they’d even met and now those well-entrenched neural pathways are coming back to bite him. The inky darkness behind his eyelids is too tempting, too easily drawing him into imagining what it would like if Jihoon were with him now, tequila on his tongue and laughter in his eyes and hands on his hips- but those aren’t Jihoon’s hands Woojin feels rest on his hip bones above the waist of his jeans.

 

When he opens his eyes again, he finds the girl who has been giving him eyes from across the dance floor for the last hour or so standing in front of him, having finally decided to make her move. She is forward and he doesn’t mind that, likes girls who seek him out because he can never be bothered to make a move himself, but he’s not in the mood tonight so when she rests her hands on his shoulders he shrugs them off apologetically and turns to move away.

 

Hyunmin must see the interaction because he’s emerging out of nowhere and following Woojin to the edge of the dance floor. “What’s wrong?” he half-shouts over the music. “Your boyfriend dump you or something?”

 

“What the fuck?”

 

Where the fuck did that come from. It’s obvious that he is referring to Jihoon and Woojin really wishes it wasn’t.

 

Hyunmin simply repeats himself louder, as if Woojin had asked because he hadn’t heard rather than because he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. _“Did your boyfriend dump you or something?”_

 

“Fuck off! He’s not my boyfriend,” Woojin yells back, voice faltering on the last word.

 

“Then why are you such a downer, man? You’re acting like we lost, not won!”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” he insists again.

 

“Yeah, yeah okay whatever you say,” Hyunmin is rolling his eyes. “Just perk up a bit will you?

 

But Woojin doesn't really hear him, doesn’t really see Hyunmin, whose lips curl with good-natured humour, whose eyes sparkle with more than a little curiosity, whose words are not intended to malignー because all Woojin can see is Han Jeongyeon in the locker room last week, jokingly shoving a teammate who’d accidentally opened his shower curtain, telling him to _wait your turn, faggot_.

 

Woojin doesn't remember all the times he’s seen Ju Haknyeon on the sidelines after a win, waiting for the chance to launch himself into Hyunmin’s arms in congratulations, noisily pressing a kiss to his cheekー because all Woojin remembers is his high school senior Taewoong leaving the basketball team suddenly one week, moving schools and Woojin had no idea why until he heard the rumour only weeks later of Taewoong being found in the lap of one of his classmates, Jisung or someone, and ending up with a black eye the next day.

 

Hyunmin, albeit unknowingly, has served all of Woojin’s fears to him on a silver platter in a dark corner of a dingy bar and it scares Woojin witless, even in his far from sober state, that he might just be next on the menu; next on the chopping block.

 

He swallows down the panic and excuses himself, fumbling with his phone to call someone. He’s not sure who. Jihoon? No, that wouldn’t be right. But he can’t talk to Daehwi, not like this when alcohol is dragging at his tongue and besides he is not in a state to calculate just what time it is over in America, so he calls his only other recent contact. (Other than his mother.)

 

"Woojin?" The voice that answers the phone is very much not Yoojung.

 

"Jihoon?" Woojin asks in confusion. "What are you doing with Yoojung's phone?"

 

"I don't have Yoojung's phone," Jihoon says incredibly patiently for the hour and the circumstances. "This is my phone. You called it."

 

"I called it?"

 

"You did. You called me."

 

"Oh."

 

"Do you want me to hang up so you can call Yoojung?"

 

"No!" Woojin surprises the both of them with his vehemence. "I want to tell you something." Rather unnecessarily, he looks over his shoulder to see if anyone might be listening, but no one is near enough. Hyunmin, though, is watching him with curiosity and when they make eye contact, the other winks and mouths a word that Woojin doesn't want to hear.

 

"What do you want to tell me?"

 

He wants to tell Jihoon he's sorry for making things weird, for brushing him off, for not being more grateful that he'd given up his time to come to the game.

 

That's what he wants to say.

 

What he says instead is:

 

"You're not my boyfriend." The words are hasty and rushed and tumble out in a whirlwind of alarm and desperation to make things clear, to some how make things feel stable.

 

There's a heavy pause and Woojin almost thinks his phone has died before Jihoon responds.

 

"I know. Don't worry, I know."

 

Woojin should be happy with that, it's what he wanted, right? But for some reason his mood is even lower than it was before. Far from reassuring him that what he fears has not come to pass, is not true and therefore can't be used against him, the words have left him feeling empty, hollowed out like someone has carved a cavity where his heart should be with a blunt spoon.

 

"I'm going to hang up now," Jihoon says next. "You should call Yoojung."

 

Staring down at the ended call screen, Woojin wonders exactly what has just happened, why exactly it feels like all Woojin has done is go and mess everything up again. Slowly, deliberately, Woojin moves his finger across his phone screen and makes sure he hits Yoojung's contact this time.

 

“Woojin?” Yoojung answers promptly like he knew she would and he almost cries at the comfort of a familar voice. “Woojin, are you okay?”

 

“I’m good, I’m-”

 

“You’re?”

 

“Not good, actually.”

 

“What do you need? What’s wrong?”

 

“I need to talk to someone, you said...that time you said, I could talk to you about things.”

 

“Things?”

 

“Him.”

 

“I see,” she says and he hears the jingle of keys in the background. “Where are you Woojin? I’ll come get you.”

 

He hands his phone to the bartender so he can tell her the address and he’s mumbling thank you’s into the phone long after she’s hung up to drive.

 

Woojin watches anxiously as Yoojung finishes up the scrambled eggs he’d cooked her for breakfast as a thank for letting his messy, slightly drunken ass stay over for the night. He’s waiting with baited breath for her verdict on the emotional rollercoaster of yesterday that has left him dizzy and confused.

 

She swallows the last bite and finishes mulling over all the scattered thoughts and feelings Woojin has dumped on her plate, more scrambled than the eggs she's just eaten. The first thing she says is, “Why?”

 

“What?”

 

“Why is it so impossible for you to like Jihoon as more than a friend? Why is that not even an option to you?”

 

“Because-” he breaks of and Yoojung waits patiently for an answer. He doesn’t have one, not really, other than that he’s simply never thought about it.

 

Because it’s _not_ an option. It just- isn’t. Never has been. In the same way that, in the eyes of his father, Woojin pursuing dance as a hobby let alone a vocation couldn’t be borne thinking about.

 

He’d never, like, push a gay dude down the stairs, or anything, at least not _because_ he’s gay - that’s awful, and he knows that it’s a fact that there are girls who like girls and boys who like boys. He’s not in denial that gay people exist, but there are ways that some things are meant to be and there are some things that _he_ is meant to be- and some concepts remain foreign because you never expect them to be so close to home.

 

After giving Woojin a moment to collect his thoughts, albeit rather unsuccessfully, Yoojung speaks again. “I’m not trying to tell you anything about who you are or the way you live your life. That’s up to you; but I think that you should at least give it some thought. Liking Jihoon doesn't mean you can't still like girls, but if maybe you think you've never liked girls - that's pretty scary - but it's also an option. In the end, it’s okay if you’re not the person you thought you’d be. Maybe then you have a chance at being who you’re meant to be.”

 

The more he thinks about it, the more he _allows_ himself to think about it, the more it starts to make just the slightest bit of sense. Probably more than the slightest bit.

 

Maybe the reason that he was always better off as friends with the girls he’s dated is because he never really wanted to be anything more than friends in the first place.

 

Maybe the reason why, when a classmate in middle school had paid too much attention to him, Woojin had chosen to pick a fight and give him a fist to his face instead of extending a hand and exposing his vulnerability.

 

Maybe the reason why, when it came to school captain elections, elementary school Woojin didn’t vote for his next door neighbour and best hyung Youngmin, he voted for some other boy Hwang Minhyun and to this day he’s never really understood why he’d perpetrated that particular betrayal of friendship, even though in the end Youngmin had been elected sports captain instead and all was well.

 

He’d pretty much forgotten it, buried beneath so many other childhood memories but it’s coming back to him now. He just remembers looking up at this boy talking about whatever the hell sixth graders think constitutes leadership potential, this boy with a cheeky smile who did a silly butt-wiggling dance at the end of his speech, and thinking _wow_. That was his sole thought as he’d ticked the box on the little print out ballot sheet and it is the only thought in his head now as he realises that Hwang Minhyun was probably baby Woojin’s first crush; not that he knew it.

 

It occurs to him just how messed up it is that he’s gone 20 years of his life not knowing something so fundamental about himself, simply because the conservatism of the people around him has robbed him of the language to describe his experiences and understand them for what they are.

 

It’s the small things that he’s missed along the way that he feels oddly nostalgic for. He’s had his first kiss and a lot of other firsts besides but they were all with girls and quietly, he’d wondered what all the fuss was about. Where others had been excited or giddy or boastful, he was simply nervous and nonplussed. It’s an odd sensation to be looking back and only understanding now why things hadn’t met his expectations, hadn’t felt quite right and what he’s pinned as not finding the right girl, now looks a lot more like looking in the wrong place entirely.

 

In one sense, he feels like he has been robbed of all the years when he wasn’t able to live as himself, but in another, he knows that had he known, had he tried, he could have had much more than that taken from him; he could have lost his future instead of his past.

 

His house was never a place where his parents had approved of his interests, not in dance and not in idol groups, and this is one interest Woojin knows would never have been tolerated. He could choose to quit his local dance club and he could sell his SHINee albums, but what can you do when your parents can’t stand something that you can’t change?

 

So maybe it is for the best that this introspection is happening later rather than sooner but that’s not to say that he’s without regrets.

 

He hadn’t understood, back then, why the steady fall into romance had destroyed his and Mina’s friendship instead of preserving it. It was the hardest thing they’d ever had to go through; her finding that her feelings were ultimately one-sided and at the time he’d been frustrated with himself, _hated himself_ , for not being able to love her back the way that she deserved. He had loved her, would have done anything for her, but not in the way she wanted.

 

She was asking what was wrong with her, that he couldn’t love her, and he was asking what was wrong with him, that he couldn’t make things work.

 

She was heartbroken and he was just- broken.

 

They had ended things on graduation day, gone their separate ways and never seen each other since. If Woojin has one regret it’s that he lost a friendship with her, something that could have been life-long, because he let them fruitlessly chase a different kind of forever; one that he was never made for.

 

Because the worst thing is, his heart had fluttered more for a boy in his class who he’d never even spoken to than it had for his girlfriend of six months, and that feels like a betrayal.

 

Because- oh, God, he has a crush on Jihoon.

 

 _He has a crush on Jihoon_.

 

He's had a crush on Jihoon for months and he didn't even know.

 

That’s something he can admit now, to himself. Sort of. It’s more than a little embarrassing in hindsight to remember how vehemently he had asserted that he only wanted to be Jihoon’s friend. He used to stare at the guy in class and think about how well his glasses suited him. That, well, Woojin wouldn’t call himself an expert yet but now that he thinks about it that doesn’t sound very…..heterosexual.

 

His first thought is that he has to tell Daehwi but it occurs to him that Daehwi probably already knows, what with all the times he had to deal with Woojin talking about some random guy in his history class. Especially the time he'd called him after he and Jihoon had had their first proper conversation, Daehwi had broken off like he wanted to tell Woojin something but couldn't and at the time it had puzzled Woojin, although not concerning him greatly, but now he thinks he has an idea just what it was. Woojin is impressed by the strength and self-control it must have taken Daehwi not to tell Woojin right then and there that he had a big fat gay crush on Jihoon because it most likely wasn't something he was ready to hear. Or something he'd believe. Daehwi probably kept his lips sealed for fear of triggering the dreaded 'no homo' defence mechanism instilled in every straight guy and every guy who thinks he is straight.

 

He doesn’t want it to be a big deal, it should be easy for him to say ‘I’m gay’ and that’s that but he can’t muster the words when talking to Yoojung, a friendly face, nor can he say them when he looks himself in the eye in the mirror, but he can say ‘I like Jihoon’ and that’s a start - for the moment, that’s what counts.

 

Whether or not that’s something he chooses to say _to_ Jihoon is another matter but regardless, he knows he has to apologise. In person. While sober. Last night he’d let his insecurities turn him harsh, and he had lashed out in defence against Jihoon, perceiving him to be a threat. In his panic, he’d forgotten that they were meant to be friends first and foremost.

 

Woojin texts Jihoon to ask where he is and it takes Woojin some time to find the photography dark room but eventually he succeeds, slipping quietly into the dimness, announcing his arrival with a small knock. And - Jihoon just listens. He doesn’t say a word, just lets Woojin get all of his out; clumsy though they are as he explains that he took Jihoon for granted. Even in this, Jihoon is too kind, too considerate; more so than Woojin probably deserves.

 

“I’m sorry for walking off like that when you’d gone out of your way to come see me play. I’m sorry for what I said on the phone too, I shouldn’t- people were saying things but I shouldn’t have let it get to me. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

 

It’s not quite what Woojin wants to say but it’s a start and he figures Jihoon can probably guess the kinds of things people had been saying.

 

What Jihoon probably won’t guess is that Woojin wants what people had been saying to be true, he’s just not sure how to come out and say it, especially when that might not be what Jihoon wants.

 

His relief at being able to apologise is swiftly succeeded by the return of a gnawing anxiety as Woojin realises that, as well as not saying a single word, Jihoon hasn’t looked at him even once. As he waits for some kind of response he follows Jihoon’s gaze and realises that he was wrong after all. Jihoon is looking at him -- because as Woojin’s intentions have become clearer, so have the images captured by the photographs lying submerged in the chemical tank below them. As a consequence, he thinks, he hopes, that Jihoon’s emotions have become clearer too, even just a little.

 

Because the photos are all of Woojin.

 

Without thinking, he moves closer, finds himself hovering just shy of Jihoon’s shoulder in an attempt to get a better look, to ascertain whether or not his eyes are playing tricks on him. Some photos he remembers being taken; in others he doesn’t recall Jihoon even having his camera with him, but what really causes his heart to skip a beat is the way in which he is now able to see himself the way that Jihoon sees him.

 

Intimately.

 

It seems to be the answer to the question that Woojin hasn’t dared to ask and Jihoon certainly isn’t going to say anything now because he seems to be holding his breath.

 

“Jihoon…” Woojin’s voice is rich in its softness and just that one word, that one name, spills from his lips like honey, the hope and wonder and fear it holds viscous enough to coat the air, excruciatingly slowly but persistently, with its sweetness.

 

Jihoon’s shoulders shudder with the force of his exhale as he finally, finally, looks up to meet Woojin’s eyes but he doesn’t quite get there. Jihoon’s gaze is waylaid at the sight of Woojin's mouth, something the latter would surely notice if he wasn’t doing the same.

 

“..Woojin,” Jihoon replies in kind, just as softly. It sounds like an apology, and Woojin wants to swipe it from his lips for its redundancy; Jihoon is not in the wrong here.

 

The heavy atmosphere has rendered them both near monosyllabic, having long parted with the ability to construct complete sentences, but they’re soon to lose all words because there’s something about seeing his own name on Jihoon’s lips, watching them wrap around the sounds of it, that tips Woojin forward, leaning down and down, closer and closer. He sees Jihoon swallow but in the lingering moment when they’re mere breaths apart he doesn’t pull away and Woojin takes that as encouragement to gently touch his lips against those of the boy in front of him. Woojin, whose words fail him more often than they succeed in conveying his the tumult of his inner thoughts, hopes that he can now say all that was left unsaid through a kiss.

 

It’s brief at first, the barest of touches but even so, the feeling of Jihoon’s lips against his own is searing its way across Woojin’s consciousness. He’s kissed before, of course, and while if someone had asked him what it’s like to kiss a boy, despite not knowing, he’d most likely have rebuked them for assuming there was anything different. They’re just two people, after all.

 

Yet it’s not the same.

 

Not quite.

 

Woojin holds his breath as Jihoon begins to tilt his head, angling just enough that the kiss is no longer just a press of lips but instead a slow, painstaking, tantalising motion. Kissing Jihoon is reminiscent of every other kiss of Woojin’s life in the same way that the spring cherry blossoms in full bloom bring to mind the tree planted back home, yet to bear fruit or flower. Something inside Woojin quietly marvels, _so this is what it’s meant to feel like._

 

When Jihoon slides a hand behind Woojin’s neck, touch leaving scorch marks and goosebumps alike, Woojin gasps and Jihoon takes the chance to deepen the kiss. Woojin already feels like he’s at his wit’s end, everything about the other boy; the slide of his chapped lips, the way he presses against him and seems to tremble under Woojin’s touch, it’s all Woojin can think, feel, want, and for Jihoon to then slip his tongue between his lips is more than his senses can handle. Woojin shudders and Jihoon takes that as a sign to pull back.

 

The heat sparking across his skin has begun to ignite thoughts of dropping out of his studies and abandoning all aspects of his public life just to spend as much time as humanly possible kissing Jihoon in the seclusion of the cramped photography studio until the other boy comes to pieces in his hands. But when Woojin pulls his gaze away from Jihoon’s swollen mouth, made redder by the scarlet shadows of the dark room, it’s the look in Jihoon’s eyes that brings him to a halt. The look in Jihoon’s eyes that betrays the regret racing through his mind, the silent question of _what did we just do?_ hanging heavy in the air and Woojin’s one remaining brain cell can't tell where things started to go wrong.

 

He thinks about the way he had moved into Jihoon’s space, taking silence as encouragement, and knows that it’s the kind of thing he ought to have taken the time to ask about. Evidently he definitely should have, given Jihoon’s current expression.

 

"I’m sorry," Woojin murmurs.  "I-" he breaks off knowing he’s overstepped and that the ball is in Jihoon’s court now.

 

At Woojin’s words - or attempt at them, rather - Jihoon’s expression completely shutters. He is suddenly unreadable and, as sombre as Woojin has seen him at times, he has never looked like this.

 

"Me too," Jihoon’s voice is still soft but in a starkly different way this time and, if Woojin dares to imagine, somehow nostalgic over something that hasn’t yet happened ー and now, it seems, never will. "I think you should go."

 

He really doesn't want to but he’s blundered into a situation that he evidently wasn't prepared for. He’s made enough of a mess and if Jihoon doesn't want him to stay, then he won’t. After all, photography is Jihoon’s outlet, and this room must be somewhat of a safe haven; Woojin knows what that's like and he doesn't want to trespass any longer.

 

It’s only now that everything has toppled, that Woojin’s realises just how high he’s piled his hopes. Just how convinced he was that confessing to Jihoon would turn out just like he’d dreamed. And for a moment, that one lightning moment, it felt like it had. But then came the thunder, the deafening echo that reminded him that that's all it was ー a dream.

 

He was just starting to think that maybe all his previous dates, all his past relationships, hadn't worked out because they were with girls; because he was trying to be a version of himself he didn't even realise was inauthentic. But now…now it seems like the problem is just him. Woojin. Maybe Park Woojin is not someone meant for love, with anyone, of any gender.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s not until there is a veritable investigation squad sitting in his living room that Woojin realises he has been so focused on his own failings and lost relationships that he’s been blind to the people that do care about him. Apparently, those people exist outside of LA, but Hyeongseob has put Daehwi on video call for good measure.

 

“Seob, why did you let all these people into our dorm?” Woojin wonders, struggling for coherency through the slowly lifting veil of sleep.

 

“They came to see you,” his roommate replies promptly, and unhelpfully from where is perched on the armrest beside Kim Doyeon.

 

At first, having heard a knock on his bedroom door and opened it to see Kim Doyeon sitting in his living room, eyebrows sharp enough to impale him and lipstick as red as the blood from the wound, he’d thought he was having a nightmare. Until his gaze had panned across to take in the image of Choi Yoojung, Byun Hyunmin and Ju Haknyeon also squeezed onto his and Hyeongseob’s tattered two-person couch.

 

“This feels like an intervention,” he says looking around blearily.

 

They have taken all the seats.

 

Woojin sits on the floor.

 

“That’s because it is an intervention,” Haknyeon supplies cheerfully. “You haven't left your room all weekend.”

 

“Sorry who are you?”

 

The speaker pouts. “I’m Hyunminnie’s boyfriend, you and I have seen each other at soccer club events for the past two years Woojin.”

 

Woojin blinks. He’ll take his word for it.

 

He gestures between the two couples and Hyeongsoeb and the tablet before him. “Do you all know each other?”

 

“Yes,” says the group in what is close to unison except Daehwi is a few seconds late because of the delay from the video call.

 

All he can think to say is, “Holy shit, Daehwi was right. All gay people really do know each other.”

 

Yoojung makes an odd simpering noise, like a mother cooing over a child. “My baby gay is growing up.”

 

Doyeon looks between Woojin and her girlfriend in mild disgust. “What the hell, no, we are not adopting him Choi Yoojung.” Said girlfriend merely tilts her head back to rest on Doyeon’s shoulder and flutters her eyelashes persuasively.

 

“Of course I’m right,” says Daehwi, a few seconds late.

 

“You missed two soccer practices, Woojin,” continues Hyunmin as if his boyfriend, _Hyunmin has a boyfriend?_ , had handed him a metaphorical conversational relay baton. “Seongwu thought you were dead because you didn’t answer your phone.”

 

Doyeon looks a little too disappointed that that wasn’t the case.

 

It’s likely he would have been dead anyway had he answered and Seongwu found out that there was no such life-threatening circumstance preventing Woojin from attending practice.

 

Unless a broken heart is life-threatening. Considering all the ones Woojin has allegedly caused, he sure hopes not. He doesn’t think Seongwu would be too sympathetic to that cause anyway.

 

“And this was cause for concern?”

 

“Hyeongseob was out on some geology field trip and we didn’t know where you were so we asked Jihoon.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” Hyunmin agrees.

 

“He said he hadn’t seen you which, considering you two are practically attached at the hip, was the equivalent of a call for help.”

 

“We can’t spend some time apart?”

 

“Woojin even when you’re apart you know where the other one is it’s bizarrely impressive but that’s not the point. The point is we’re worried about you. Why have you been holing yourself up like you want the world to go away?” Yoojung really does look concerned and Woojin feels a twinge of gratitude for all that she’s done for him, these fast few days especially.

 

“Did he tell you why?”

 

“Would you like to tell us?”

 

Woojin figures that even if Jihoon has told them, they should at least hear it from him too. “I went to see him to apologise for brushing him off on Thursday but I misread some signs and got carried away.”

 

“So you kissed him?” interjects Doyeon in what could either be impatience or a genuine attempt to make things easier for him by putting into words what he is struggling to say.

 

“Yes,” he admits, blushing a little.

 

“Did he kiss you back?” Yoojung asks.

 

“Yes, well- yes. But then he pushed me away. So I apologised and he told me I should go.” Woojin traces patterns into the floorboards as he speaks.

 

“Sounds like you need to work on your game,” Hyunmin offers.

 

“He’s not that bad of a kisser,” corrects Yoojung, obviously speaking from experience. No one’s sure who looks more affronted, Woojin or Doyeon.

 

“That’s our _son_ ,” protests Doyeon, scandalised.

 

“Woojin,” starts Daehwi and everyone turns to look at the tablet screen propped up in Hyeongseob’s lap. “Did you tell Jihoon that you liked him?”

 

“Not...exactly.” There’s a collective groan and Woojin would probably be offended if he knew what it was for. “What? _What?”_

 

“Come on, Woojin. You go see him and apologise for jeopardising your friendship or whatever with your emo kid shit. It sounds like you’re worried about losing him. He doesn’t know that you like him, hell he doesn’t even know that you’re not straight, and then you kiss him. What’s the guy supposed to think?”

 

“Oh. Shit.”

 

Jihoon probably thought, what? That Woojin was using the kiss to fix things? That he didn’t really mean it? Woojin doesn’t exactly have a history of being bold or bothered enough to do what he wants.

 

Yoojung leans over to pull him up off the ground, dusting off his clothes in what Woojin thinks is an entirely unnecessary way. He wasn’t _lying_ on the floor.

 

Then Hyunmin is putting a hand on his back and steering back towards his bedroom to get dressed. “Go on. You need to talk. Put something half-decent on and go find him.”

 

“Wait,” Woojin skids to a stop once he’s thrown on something other than his pyjamas and is headed for the door. “Why are you so sure Jihoon even likes me?”

 

“Haknyeon’s in his photography class.”

 

 

 

 

 

It’s Monday afternoon and Jihoon doesn’t have any classes; since the library is normally too packed at this hour he likes to study at home instead, so Woojin figures his best bet is to go to Jihoon’s dorm. He takes a deep breath before knocking and he nearly cheers when it is only a few seconds before Jihoon is opening the door.

 

Which is promptly closed again in Woojin’s face.

 

Not a good start.

 

Woojin briefly wonders if he’ll have to explain himself through the door, imagining his imminent confession playing out like a scene in a movie, but he knows that in the movies boys who like boys don’t get a chance at happiness, so he is exceptionally relieved when Jihoon opens the door again a moment later.

 

“Sorry, I thought I was hallucinating. Did you need something?” Jihoon is short and to the point and Woojin tries not to be discouraged.

 

 _Yes, I need you_ , Woojin wants to say but he figures that’s coming on a little too strong for a Monday afternoon.

 

“I need to talk. To you,” he says instead.

 

“We are talking.”

 

“You want me to say what I have to say out here in the hallway?”

 

It sounds like a threat, a vague one nonetheless, and Jihoon tilts his head as if trying to ascertain exactly what is at stake.

 

“You’re not going to kiss me again, are you?”

 

“Not unless you want me to,” Woojin says, and it’s true, but by the look in Jihoon’s eyes it’s the wrong answer. “Please, just- let me come in for 10 minutes?”

 

“Okay,” Jihoon aquiceses after a moment, stepping back to allow Woojin into his room.

 

They stand awkwardly in the entrance after the door has been closed and Jihoon sighs before moving to the kitchenette to put the electric kettle on. “I’m sorry for being short with you, I guess I just expected you’d need a little more time to wash your mouth out or whatever,” Jihoon remarks without looking at him.

 

“Why would I want to do that?”

 

“Why would you want to kiss me?” Before Woojin can answer, Jihoon goes on, now looking at the other in exasperation. “Look, you’re- I understand that you want everything to be okay between us but I’m disappointed in you, if I’m being honest.”

 

That is not what he expected to hear.

 

“I’m disappointed because in a split second you undid everything we worked on, you know? You can’t just- you can’t just give people what you think they want just to make everything easier. I thought you’d realised you don’t have to put yourself through things you don’t want to, that hurt you, just for the sake of others.”

 

It doesn’t sound like they’re even talking about the same thing.

 

_‘Put himself through’?_

 

_‘Hurt him’?_

 

Woojin would gladly have stayed in that photography dark room until his sight permanently adapted to night vision if it meant he could keep kissing Jihoon. He’d never wanted anything more and he can’t believe Jihoon thinks that kissing him could be something other than the most divine experience of his life.

 

“You...wanted me to kiss you?” Woojin hedges, just to make sure.

 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Seriously, that’s all you got from that? Woojin I am _trying_ to fix things with us. I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

 

“Since when do we need fixing? What broke us?”

 

“You broke my trust. You broke my trust when I showed you my photos and you used that against me.”

 

It immediately becomes clear to Woojin that this is not just about him, this is not just about them; Woojin has unwittingly wounded one of Jihoon’s weak spots, an old injury left behind by Donghan and possibly others and he curses himself for not being more careful.

 

Jihoon has his arms crossed over his chest and Woojin wants to draw near, wants to reassure Jihoon with actions that he genuinely wants to be at his side but Jihoon is someone for whom words are important, so that’s what he’ll use.

 

“Your trust is the most precious thing in my life. When I saw those photos, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Since when am I that lucky?” Woojin laughs harshly and Jihoon simply looks confused. “I could see the way you look at me, and what are the chances? What are the chances that you look at me the same way I look at you?”

 

“Woojin.” Jihoon says his name in consternation, like a warning.

 

“What are the chances that you want to kiss me too?”

 

“Woojin-”

 

“I’m sorry for a lot of things; I’m sorry for never asking the right questions, I’m sorry that you were stuck with helping me and I never did anything in return. I’m sorry for breaking your trust even though it is the last thing I’d ever want to do. But I am not sorry for kissing you. I wanted to, you wanted to, so I did.”

 

Jihoon is nothing short of flabbergasted and all he can do is protest weakly in the face of Woojin saying something he never thought he would in a million years. “Woojin. You’re straight.”

 

Woojin shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

 

“But-”

 

“Jihoon, why is it so impossible for me to like you?” he echoes the question Yoojung had asked him.

 

“You keep telling me to assert myself and say no to people but now when I know what I want you won’t let me say _yes_ ,” Woojin continues. “All our ‘progress’ is about enabling me to be the person I want to be, right?

 

“Well, I know who I want to be: I want to be someone who’s by your side, always. I want to be someone you can lean on, someone who cares for you in ways no one else does. I want to be someone who knows what it’s like to hold your hand and wake up next to you every morning. Park Jihoon, I know what I want; I want to be your boyfriend and the only question now is, what do _you_ want? ”

 

It’s then that Jihoon chooses to speak Woojin’s language. Through action. He doesn't hesitate before pulling him into a kiss that very clearly tells Woojin just what, and who, he wants.

 

It's not the last time that Woojin will think of becoming a secret agent (some childhood dreams never die), but as he kisses Jihoon up against the kitchen cupboards he thinks he really would make a terrible one because all he wants to do is tell everyone who will listen how much he likes Jihoon, wants to shout from the rooftops just how lucky he is that Jihoon likes him too. Not quite inconspicuous enough behaviour for a secret agent. He'll suffice for simply telling their friends first but one day, when the world is ready, he'll be able to let them in on the secret that Woojin Likes Jihoon Very Very Incredibly Much and it's a truth he'll never get tired of.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ??? what even are endings ??? anyway thank you for reading if you made it this far!! if you have any feedback on how i could improve my writing i'd love to hear it!
> 
> p.s. come say hi over on twitter! you can find me at [@lavenderhwi](https://twitter.com/lavenderhwi)


End file.
